Culmination
by Croik
Summary: After GGX2, Ky hunts down the origin of the Robo Kys, with help contains Yaoi, KyTestament
1. Prologue

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

As this takes place after GGX2, I'm picking and choosing the endings that apply.  Such as:

Ky did speak to Sol.

Slayer was not sealed by Venom.

Bridget met Potemkin, and is now with the Jellyfish Pirates.

Dizzy defeated I-no, and was saved by Sol from losing control of her powers (her ending 2)

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**Culmination**

Prologue

By now the rain was coming down in thick torrents, invisible against the black of night and heavy.  Every once in a while a flash of white lightning would split the air and draw shapes into form, intelligible only by the brief, dazzling outlines reflected by the water.  For those slight instances, the landscape was bright, and inexplicably beautiful.  Splashed in iridescence, the shattered rock and splintered wood had not looked so alive in years.

Testament wasn't used to rain like this.  Further north it came slowly, with clouds that drifted languidly between horizons for days spilling cool drizzle, sometimes warm showers.  But here--somewhere in the cuff of Italy, he assumed--the storm had come suddenly with little warning.  In a matter of moments the gentle coastline seemed to sway with each gust of wind across the sea, pulling old stones from their rest and drawing waves high over the old structures that had once held them.  He had even considered taking shelter.  But with the storm at its peak Testament found himself settled beneath the corroding marble of an old statue.  In his haste he hadn't been able to identify the figure, save that it was barely enough to keep the rain from him.  His hair was soaked, sticking to his neck and jaw so that he could taste it at the corner of his mouth.  Worse was the leather clinging to his thighs, parting in just the right places to spread the cool chill up and down his limbs.  Every once in a while the wind picked up enough to throw droplets into his face; he would tilt his head back, letting them slide through his hair, over the bridge of his nose and down his throat.

A mere two weeks had passed, and yet Testament found the cold, restless pit creeping into his stomach once more.  Before, when the answer came to him, it seemed like a simple solution; he'd wanted to see Dizzy.  Just to know that she was all right, to make sure she wasn't being mistreated.  Now it would be just as simple to find her again, and yet he was somehow hesitant to do so.  He had let her go, was supposed to have turned his back and left her to her own life.  At the time it had seemed a perfectly natural decision, and even now he did not regret it.  There were only times like these when his insides felt hollow, something deep behind his ribs aching.  It was a need that was as tangible as it was fierce.

Thunder echoed overhead, and Testament lifted his head slightly, shaking it so the rain slapped against his cheeks and neck.  It didn't help him feel any dryer.  He was finally considering searching out a new resting place when another clap resounded, this one far closer than the last, and this time accompanied by a flare of brilliant orange light.  Testament gasped quietly as the once prosperous port town was bathed in reflections of bright fire.  He couldn't help but imagine if that was what the city must have looked like as it died, glistening like a burning jewel against the night.

A moment later the Gear reclaimed his senses; the light died, leaving him without sight once again, but he could clearly detect a foul odor on the wind.  That had been some explosion just now, and it was close.  A little surprised that he'd not been able to sense the approach of a battle sooner, Testament pushed wearily to his feet.  He was not interested in fighting anything in this weather, but he wasn't sure he could sit idly by, either.  If anything, it might be worth it to see who the parties were.

As soon as Testament stepped out fully from under the shelter of bronze he was soaked through all over again.  The first few steps brought him to a deep puddle that splashed cold water up unpleasantly against his bare calves.  He almost gave up his curiosity right then, but then his ears caught on the clanging resonation of steel—blades meeting.  Scowling slightly he trudged through the miniature rivers that had formed around his unintended pedestal, toward the origin of the explosion.

It didn't take long; Testament had barely traveled more than a minute when the sound of heavy footsteps pounded toward him.  He could still barely see, however, and he stepped carefully aside as he peered down the empty, broken street.  When the figures flashed by they were running at top speed, like wraiths streaking through the falling curtains, splashing more cold filth against his uncovered flesh.  There were more than he had anticipated.  As they stampeded past he caught only a glimpse of burning neon against metal, the smell of electricity and wet iron and blood.  It was familiar somehow, but he didn't know why until the mass drew to a sudden halt.  The sting of clanging swords resumed, and in the tiny sparks borne from the metal he could just barely make out a recognizable uniform in the fray.  He stared in confusion.  "Ky…?"

One of the whirling figures turned, and Testament caught only a glimpse of gleaming yellow before a blade streaked, severing the head from its body.  Testament started when the sound of it hitting the pavement was the sharp thud of metal.  They were robots—dozens of them, moving in a swarm.  But there was a human voice among them, gasping, and it only took a moment for Testament to identity that as well.  Their gazes met once amidst the lightning, and there was something fierce in the man's eyes, like worn desperation.  Like a warning as he lifted Thunderseal, its surface beginning to glow.

Testament gasped quietly, realizing what he was up to too late.  "Ky—"  But when he remembered the rain water sloshing at his ankles he had no choice but to retreat.  His limbs were sluggish from having sat motionless for so long, and yet one powerful leap took him high into the air, away from the struggle.  He had just felt the balls of his feet touch a solid stone archway when the scene below him erupted.  Everything seemed to explode at once; he felt the heat from the electricity as it blazed among the robots, carried by the rain, raising ear-splitting, artificial cries that were nearly lost in the hum of trembling metal.  The light was blinding.  The robots collapsed in groups, some writhing madly before dropping to the street, some shattering into shrapnel.  A few pieces seared Testament's arms as he protected his face. 

And just as suddenly as it had begun, the white lightning ceased.  Whatever robots had been left standing dropped in sickening heaps as the rain hissed against their burning surfaces.  Testament waited until he was sure it was safe before dropping to the road once more, stepping cautiously through the fallen toward the one form that smelled of blood instead of oil.  It might have been only morbid curiosity that drove him to the man's side, and he dropped lightly to his knees beside the body, sensing the unnatural heat emanating from it.  He placed his hand carefully against the man's curved spine but there was no movement, not even a stirring of breath.

There was a whirl of gears behind him, and Testament turned sharply just as another bolt of lightning struck in the distance.  For that moment his gaze fell on the face of a man—a face of skin, with deep-set eyes he could barely make out.  He curled his fists, preparing to summon his staff, but when the sky was lit again the figure had vanished into the rain.


	2. Chapter 1

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

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**Culmination**

Chapter 1

 When Sol finally reached the place scheduled for their meeting, he couldn't help a groan.  It wasn't that his supposed "mystery informant" had chosen a bar—he could use a stiff drink about now—but it appeared to be one of those fancy bars, with wine and menus with real food and, worst of all, dozens of upper class yuppies reminding each other how great they were.  There were more and more places like this around, and he might have burned it to the ground if not for the effort that would involve.

In any case, he had no choice but to enter.  It was both irritating and satisfying that everyone in the place seemed to glance up at his appearance, noting the unwashed state of his waist-long hair, the filth clinging to his boots and the sword fastened at his hip.  A few even dared to murmur.  He shot a glare at some lady in a black dress near the bar, and was a little surprised when she didn't faint dead away.  It might give these peacocks something to talk about later, in any case—their brush with death at the hands of a socially inept.  He chuckled to himself as he crossed the room to the far corner table.

Whatever humor Sol had built up in the short walk to the back faded immediately when he recognized the head of hair he was looking at.  He groaned again.  "I should have known only you would arrange something like this," he muttered as he slipped into a chair across from the man.  He was tempted to put his boots on the table, but he didn't want to give the waitresses heart attacks.  "Are you gonna buy me a drink, or what?"

Slayer chuckled faintly, already filling a glass of white wine for his companion.  He grinned when he saw Sol eyeing it disagreeably.  "My friend, you have no class," he chided gently as he urged the drink toward him.

Sol grunted, regarding the offer a long moment before downing it in one breath.  Booze was booze, after all, but he still scowled at his company, as if holding him personally responsible for the taste.  "Why the hell is a vampire drinking _white_ wine, anyway?"

"I happen to have delicate tastes," Slayer replied easily, tilting his own glass in a mock toast before lifting it to his lips.

"But that's not why you called me here."  Sol rolled his eyes, leaning forward so he could rest his chin on his palm.  "Out with it.  I don't have time to play your games."

"Very well, then."  

Slayer reached into the front of his suit coat, removing a single sheet of stiff paper.  He slid it across the table—slowly, like a bad movie cliché.   Sol glanced, already bored, at the intricate colored markings that made up the letterhead.  "It's a report from the Global Police," he said unnecessarily, shifting his gaze back to Slayer.  "What's it got to do with me?"

"That," Slayer explained grandly, "is the last report submitted by Officer Kiske to his home office in Paris, France.  He was in northern Italy on an extended investigation.  I thought you would be interested."

"Well, you were wrong," Sol retorted, meeting Slayer glare for glare.  But the man only watched him patiently, as if waiting for him to notice something, and with a resigned sigh he glanced at the paper once more.  "So, he's investigating it anyway," he muttered, reading through the report.  It was short, vague, and altogether incomplete.  That in itself made him frown; it wasn't like Ky to be anything less than completely thorough.  "Maybe he's learning," he said thoughtfully, skimming through the lines of text once more.  "He's hiding his findings from his superiors."  But Ky would never be a good liar—the report was too obvious, too suspicious, and it was only going to get him caught.  "Damn brat.  And to think I even warned him."

It was then that Sol's eyes fell on the date at the top of the finely printed report, and his already displeased expression darkened further.  "You said this was his latest report?" he asked.

Slayer continued to sip elegantly from his drink.  "I did."

"It was submitted almost five days ago."

"Indeed."

Sol glared at him, but not even his harsh gaze was enough to shake Slayer's pleasant demeanor.  He returned his attention to the report once more.  Though he knew the Global Police operated different than the Holy Knights he had once been a member of, he also knew that as the head of the organization, Ky should have been expected to report his whereabouts and activities more often than five days apart.  Especially during an investigation.

"So Ky is missing.  Is that what you brought me here to say?" Sol asked gruffly, leaning back in his chair.  "The kid can handle himself, Slayer, and more importantly it has nothing to do with me."

"Of course it doesn't," Slayer replied smoothly.  "I merely thought you would like to know, that's all.  Especially since he might have been on to something, to warrant such a disappearance."

"You were wrong," Sol repeated.  He pushed heavily to his feet, glancing over the report once more to commit its contents to memory.  "I've got more important things to do than chase that boy through Europe—I warned him, he didn't listen, it's his problem now."

Slayer lifted a curious eyebrow.  "Even if he's called the Bureau down on him?"

He paused, brow creasing as he frowned down at the man.  "For someone who doesn't want to get involved," he accused tersely, "you sure have a habit of sticking your damn nose where it doesn't belong, Nightwalker."  He started past him, by now tired of Slayer's meddling.

"Then I suppose you won't be needing this, either."

Though everything in Sol's nature was instructing him not to turn, to keep walking and ignore whatever new worm the old man was dangling, he glanced back anyway.  Slayer was holding a flat brown envelope over his head, moving it slightly as if in invitation.  "What is it?" Sol demanded, losing patience.

"It's the starting line," Slayer replied evenly, not looking back.  "The rest is up to you."

Sol scowled, but he snatched the envelope out of Slayer's hand all the same, stuffing it into his back pocket.  "Drop dead old man," he muttered as he turned at last, striding purposefully for the door.  He could hear Slayer chuckling behind him but he didn't glance back.

*****

The first sensation to reach Ky Kiske through the thick layers of unconsciousness was the brush of human skin against the side of his throat.  It was a soft touch, accidental, but he clearly felt the course pads of the fingertips and the gentle scrape of worn nails.  Following came a feeling of cold, soothing pains he hadn't noticed before, spreading gradually through his body and loosening the grip of oppressive heat from his weary limbs.  He sighed quietly.  Wherever those hands had come from, he was grateful, and he fell soundlessly asleep once more.

It was impossible for him to judge the amount of time that passed, but when Ky awoke again it was with much more clarity.  He could feel the whisper of sheets against his cheek, and the lumpy pillow cradling his sore head--now that his senses were retuning in full he was keenly aware that every part of him was aching.  His hands and back, especially, throbbed with every beat of his heart.  He was stretched out on his stomach beneath thin sheets that reeked of sweat, cushioned on an old spring mattress.  It wasn't like a hospital, though; above his own faint breathing he could hear the hum of machinery, like the engines of an airplane.  Curious, his eyes at last fluttered open.

At first his view of the small room was smeared and dark, confirming that he hadn't used his eyes in some time; gradually they adjusted to the fresh lighting streaming through an open window.  A closer look showed it was actually a porthole; several of them lined the walls.  As his vision improved he was able to make out another bed across from him that was empty, a table with a bowl and some bandages, his bloodied uniform stuffed in a corner…and a black-clad pair of legs just beside him, crossed at the knees.  Frowning, Ky tried to shift so that he could see whomever it was.

It was a man—a moment of squinting passed before he could be sure of that, as the stranger's face was shielded by a thick curtain of black hair which matched the color of his pants and button-down shirt.  His legs were crossed, hands folded easily in his lap, head gently tilting forward.  Ky tried to push himself down the mattress so that he'd be able to see the man's face, but when his shoulders rotated it sent a quiver of pain down his back, and he gasped softly, falling still again.

The man stirred.  Though logic instructed that this stranger must have cared for him in his injured state and was therefore not a threat, Ky couldn't help but hold his breath.  The man lifted a hand, pushing the hair from his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck.  The first glance of his features proved Ky's concern to be warranted; he froze, lips parting slightly in surprise.  But he didn't dare move, as if he wasn't really awake, and if he were quiet enough he could somehow remain unnoticed until he was ready to deal with this new development.

But Testament was obviously waking, even if he seemed to be taking his time; he stretched his shoulders lazily as his mouth widened in a long, ungraceful yawn.  He combed his hair with his fingers, licked his lips noisily.  The actions were so natural, so…human…that Ky couldn't help but stare in confusion.  Someone like Testament shouldn't ball his fist like a child when rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  

At last Testament's eyelids lifted, and the gleam of his red irises appeared less threatening after the brief scene Ky had just witnessed.  He glanced to the side and their eyes met.  "Oh," Testament said plainly, sitting up a little taller.  "You're awake."

"Testament…?"  By now thoroughly baffled Ky remained still, watching the man's every move.  "What…?"  But then Testament was pushing to his feet, and he tried again to roll onto his side with the same painful results.

"Stay still," Testament muttered somewhere above him.  "The burns on your back are still healing."  Ky felt something damp slide across the back of his neck; a cloth he hadn't noticed before, reminding him suddenly of the feeling of fingertips he had thought was a dream.  As Testament moved away he stared up at him questioningly.

"You're on the ship of the Jellyfish Pirates," Testament explained as he crossed to the bowl Ky had noted earlier.  "You're lucky they came along when they did."

"Pirates?" Ky echoed blankly.  He relaxed a little into the mattress, if only because the tension in his shoulders made his back ache.  "Why would pirates rescue a police officer?"

Testament dipped the cloth into the bowl, and a few remaining ice cubes clattered around as he wet it and then squeezed out the excess water.  "You can ask them yourself, I suppose."  He returned, spreading the cloth over Ky's neck.  

The cold shot immediately down his spine, and Ky shivered a little.  It felt good, though; he sighed as his eyes closed for a moment.  When they opened again Testament was moving away from him.  There was something about the way his hair swayed that reminded him of the rain which had chased him into this state…and he frowned.  "Were you taking care of me?"

Testament paused a few steps from the room's only door.  "You were feverish last night," he replied somewhat hesitantly, as if having been caught in a wrongdoing.  "Someone had to look after you, but the girls needed to sleep."

Ky's brow furrowed.  "The girls?"

Before Testament could respond the door to the cabin opened slowly, and a woman's face peered through.  Ky hadn't thought his situation could become any more complicated until he recognized who was watching him; Dizzy, dressed in one of the pirates' sailor outfits and accompanied by another member of the crew.  She slipped inside with a relieved smile, her companion just behind.  "Oh, Mr. Kiske, you're awake."  She turned to the other girl.  "April, could you go get May and Johnny?  They wanted to know as soon as he was up."

The girl nodded brightly.  "Sure thing, Dizzy.  I'll be right back."  She flashed Ky a youthful smile.  "Glad to see you're doing better, Mr. Kiske," she chirped before disappearing through the door once more.

Dizzy bustled into the room, relieving her arms of the bundle she'd been carrying.  "I brought fresh water," she said as she arranged her supplies around the room's small table.  "And some more linens, just in case.  It's a good thing—now that you're awake, we can get you properly changed.  I'm sure you're not very comfortable right now."

Ky started to speak, but his brain was intending too many questions, and none of them found their way to his lips.  He closed his mouth once more as he watched Dizzy bustle about with mixed awe and confusion.  Gradually, he pieced together his situation, and what must have happened to find him in such a state.  His memory was foggy at best; he could recall the pounding of the rain against his shoulders, Thunderseal's handle clenched tightly in his fist, and above all else the explosion of blinding light.  But when he tried to recall after that he could conjure nothing but cold, seeping all through him, and his eyes leapt unconsciously to Testament.  The Gear was standing out of Dizzy's way, arms folded and face calm.  Again he had to pause at the sight of him; had he been asked before to imagine Testament at ease, he wouldn't have been able to do it.  Now, the expression looked as natural on him as the motherly tenderness Dizzy displayed in refilling the water basin.

He didn't realize he'd been spoken to until Testament's gaze flickered to him curiously.  "Excuse me?"

"How are you feeling?" Dizzy repeated, moving closer to sit in the chair Testament had abandoned earlier.  She reached out to touch his forehead, and at the time it didn't occur to him to flinch away.  "Ah, that's good.  At least your fever hasn't come back."

"He was feverish last night," Testament interrupted.

"Really?"  Dizzy turned on him with a concerned frown.  "You were supposed to wake me if he got worse."

Testament's gaze escaped hers in favor of the porthole.  "It wasn't serious."

Dizzy's lips tilted in a pout, but she turned back to Ky without admonishing him further.  "At least you're all right," she told Ky, smiling shyly.  "We were worried."

Ky found his voice at last.  "Dizzy…you've been looking after me, also?" he asked quietly.  He dropped his gaze.  "I don't understand."

"May and Johnny will be here in a second," Dizzy assured, misinterpreting his remarks.  "They'll explain everything.  Now, are you feeling all right?"

"I…"  Ky sighed; it didn't seem worth it to argue.  "Yes, thank you."

A moment later the door was opening again, and the familiar faces of Jellyfish Pirates May and Johnny entered, followed by yet another crewmember—this one a bit older than the last, her mouse-brown hair pulled back, her cheeks helplessly freckled.  Dizzy stepped back next to Testament as the trio moved further inside.

"So, Sleepy Beauty finally awakens," Johnny chuckled, tilting his sunglasses down as he leaned easily against the wall.  "You're damn lucky, kid."

Ky tried to reply, but by then the brown-haired crewmate was beside him, checking his forehead and pulse.  With a calm, serious demeanor she tugged his hand free to examine the thick bandages there, as well as those crossing his back and shoulders.  He did his best not to wince, even though he wasn't encouraged much but the young age of his apparent doctor.  "Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" he asked, growing a bit frustrated.

"You got beat," May said, far too exuberantly for Ky's tastes.  "We just happened to be on our way south when we got word from Testament here."  She jerked her thumb at him, and he snorted and glanced away.  "So we dragged you aboard—you've been out for about four days now."

"Four days?" Ky repeated in alarm.  When he tried to shift once more onto his side, however, his back flared again, reminding him that his injuries may indeed have been that serious.  The 'doctor' urged him back onto his stomach, and he had no choice but to comply.  "I still don't understand.  All of you…."  He shook his head slightly.  "I am grateful.  However, if you think this entitles you to lenient treatment from the law, I'm afraid you're mistaken."

May and Johnny exchanged glances, and then burst out laughing.  The other two girls giggled as well; Ky stared at them all blankly, unaware that he had said anything warranting such mirth.  In confusion his gaze leapt to Testament, the only one of them seemingly unaffected.  The Gear's eyes met his only briefly before slipping away, his posture growing stiff.  And suddenly he was moving towards the door, ignoring the laughter from their company.

Ky watched him, something inside him recalling the events of that night, the rain and the lightning.  His eyes widened slightly as they took in the subtle curl of Testament's fingers.  "It was you," he murmured, and the room quieted as Testament slowed to a halt.  "In the rain…"

Testament turned his head just slightly to glance at Ky over his shoulder.  "It was a coincidence," he said evenly, his tone betraying neither approval nor disgust.  "I saw the explosion and I investigated."

"Then you…"  Despite his best efforts Ky could only conjure up fleeting images of the event, one of which being a flash of crimson eyes against the dark.  He licked his suddenly dry lips.  "You saved my life."

Testament was silent for a moment as all eyes in the room fell on him.  He shrugged his shoulders as if to rid himself of them.  "Thank Dizzy," he replied dryly.  "I did it for her."  Before Ky could have a chance to respond he continued on, closing the door softly behind him.

Ky dropped his gaze.  His mind was spinning now, trying to remember, or to at least make sense of all of this.  It was then that Dizzy returned to his side to take the place of the doctor.  She seemed a little nervous, as if unsure of whether or not to speak her mind.  "He asked Johnny to take you in as a personal favor," she explained quietly.  "Because…you spared my life once.  I think he wanted to repay a debt to you."

"But that's…"  Somehow, her explanation only made Ky's stomach sink further.  There should have been no debt attached to the sparing of an innocent life.  If Dizzy had been a danger to herself and their world he would have killed her—she had committed no crimes, and therefore deserved no punishment.  It should have been as simple as that; Ky's decision was one of logic and reason, and warranted no return favors.  He found it all vaguely troubling, though he could not determine exactly why.

"Geez, do you have to think so hard on it?" Johnny said abruptly, interrupting his thoughts.  "The man saved your life, kid.  Just be thankful and get over it."  He lifted an eyebrow.  "Or are you that upset about having your life saved by a Gear?"

"It's not that," Ky quickly responded, though Johnny's words did nothing to calm his already unsettled mind.  "I merely…."  He had no words to justify himself, so instead he lifted his eyes to Dizzy once more.  "Thank you," he said sincerely.  "I am grateful for your compassion.  All of you."

Dizzy blushed in embarrassment, and Ky couldn't help but smile a little at the expression on her face.  It was innocent and human—he suddenly found it easy to assure himself that he had made the right decision in judging her.

May laughed, slapping Dizzy lightly on the shoulder.  "She's been waiting to hear that all week, you know," she teased Ky, fixing him with a grin.  "And don't worry about us—we helped ya 'cause Dizzy asked us to.   We don't expect you to go easy on us."  She looked to Johnny.  "Right?"

He nodded easily.  "Damn straight.  He's welcomed to stay as long as he needs to recover."  When he looked to Ky, however, his manner became abruptly serious.  "But you're still an officer among pirates, and if you try anything on this ship, I'll easily put you back in your coma."

Ky smiled tensely.  "I have no intention of pushing the limits of your generosity."

"Good!  Then it's settled."  Johnny stood, pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose.  "April went down to the galley to get you a proper meal served up--it'll help you get your strength back.  We'll let you rest a while longer."  He glanced at May, who nodded and fell back to his side.  "I'm sure June's going to want to change your bandages and get you cleaned up, then you can tell us all about what happened to you."

Though Ky wasn't looking forward to relating his story, he nodded, greatly relieved at the thought of a meal; he could feel the proof that he hadn't eaten in days nearly branded on his stomach.  "Thank you."

Johnny offered him a lopsided grin and headed to the door with May just behind.  "Take it easy, Blondie!" the latter sang as they departed.  Dizzy remained, offering to help June in redressing Ky's wounds.  As they went to work Ky settled himself more comfortably.  Now that he at least had an idea of what was going on, he found it much easier to relax.  For now, his investigation and the events following it could wait.

*****

Testament kept his head titled slightly down as he moved through the ship.  These past four days had been extremely strange to him, living here on the pirate ship.  There were children everywhere of all ages, bustling about continuously.  There wasn't a room on the ship you couldn't hear them laughing or yelling, and their footsteps echoed endlessly through the corridors.  It was distracting, and Testament had found himself listening to them for long periods at a time, as if trying to determine some pattern from the commotion.  So far his attempts had proved ineffective.

He had only seen Dizzy infrequently during his time here, due to her devoting her attention to Ky's well being.  But when he did her, her face alight with laughter and her eyes shining as she joined the rest of the crew, he was nearly shocked.  He had been accustomed to seeing her at ease, perhaps even content, but the blatant happiness in her manner—the almost reckless enjoyment—was something entirely foreign to him.  It was both encouraging and sobering.  During the day the ache behinds his ribs would subside a little bit every time he saw her, but in her absence it grew a little deeper, nestling into his stomach and spine.

He had to admit, though, that his state of living had greatly improved since coming to the ship.  He had been granted a room near the back of the ship for himself and one other, both being males among the female crew—and May had insisted that Johnny be allowed to keep his own room to himself.  Though his clothing had been damaged in the rain he'd been assured that it would soon be replaced, and in the meantime he'd been given a few articles of Johnny's to wear.  The soft leather was too tight against his thighs, and the shirt too large—the cuffs, which he refused to roll, crept down to his knuckles, and the material swept uncomfortably against his stomach when he moved.  But at least he had something clean, and a bed to return to at night.  He was even beginning to appreciate the calm and the stability, with a room for himself and three prepared meals a day.  Most of the girls were too afraid to approach him, but those that did were awed; and though it seemed ridiculous to admit, he'd been pleased beyond words when a few of the younger girls volunteered to brush his hair for him every morning after breakfast.

Testament knocked twice on the door to his room before entering.  It was a mild courtesy to his roommate, even if the other never bothered to do the same.  Presently Bridget was seated on the top of the bunk they shared, his feet kicking lightly so that the fabric spread across his legs rustled.  He was joined by two of the pirates, as usual, who were watching him with great interest.  All three glanced up as Testament entered.

"Oh, hey," Bridget greeted, the girls giggling next to him.   Testament had to wonder if it was all right for anyone to look that happy all the time.  "You were with Ky last night, weren't you?  How is he?"

"He woke up a while ago," Testament reported, slipping into his bunk under the boy and his companions.

"Really?  That's great news."  Bridget leapt lightly to the floor, taking the mass of fabric with him to display.  "And so's this—ta-da!"  He spread out the leather, his grin wide with prideful accomplishment.  "All finished.  How does it look?"

Testament crooked and eye, glancing over Bridget's work.  Though he had resigned himself to the reality that he was going to have to buy himself a new wardrobe, looking now he had to admit the boy's sewing at least appeared sound.  He reached out, tugging on a few of the straps.  "I'll have to try it on to know," he said after a pause, hiding his approval.

But Bridget saw right through him, and his cheeks reddened as if having received a great compliment.  "Good!  You do that, while I go visit Ky."  

He tossed the leather bundle haphazardly onto Testament's stomach and reached up to help the two girls down.  Once on the ground each of them snatched one of Bridget's arms.  Testament glanced away, frowning slightly to himself; he would never understand how a boy impersonating a woman could be so popular with girls.  "Don't stay too long," he advised.  "He's going to need his rest."

"Of course—I just want to say hello."  With another bright smile Bridget started toward the door, his friends in tow.  "Don't forget to try it on!"

Testament grunted his reply, glancing back only once the door had closed behind them.  He sighed and held the leather up in front of his face.  Bridget had done a good job despite his original reservations.  He wasn't, however, quite motivated enough to try it on yet, and he took just enough time to fold the outfit and set it aside before returning to the mattress.  He wasn't exactly tired—as a Gear it would take more than a sleepless night to exhaust him—but he was weary, and a little confused.  Four days was not a long time, and yet he hadn't yet been able to prepare himself for when Ky awoke.  He knew how to rationalize his actions in saving the man's life; it was simple to say it was for Dizzy's sake, not only for the life of hers that was spared but also because of the compassion she herself had tried to show towards humans.  He had imagined that she might even be proud of him for it, and he was right.  She had greeted him with greater spirit than she had in a long time, and that alone might have been worth the effort.

What he had a more difficult time explaining away was the flutter behind his ribs when he'd awoken to find Ky's eyes on him.  He had been relieved, not only because it meant the end of the others' concerns, but merely the knowledge that his charge was recovering.  It reminded him of when he'd discovered Dizzy after her meeting with Ky several months ago, and again after her ordeal with the musician in red.

No, it had started before that morning.  Testament would never forget the sweep of elation he'd felt when Ky first sputtered back to life in his arms, that night in the rain.  He should not have taken satisfaction in saving the life of a single human, especially one such as Ky Kiske.  But even if he denied it, he could still remember how small the man had seemed, huddled and trembling, his burned and bloodied hands groping the air for assistance.  It might have been what compassion felt like, caring for him, and he was both pleased and disgusted with himself for his sentimentality.

He had done the right thing—that was what Dizzy told him.  For now his only choice was to believe that.

*****

Bridget was all too pleased with himself as he trotted happily down the hallway leading to where Ky was staying.  The fact that he himself had done very little to aid in the man's progress was far from his mind and had no effect on his enthusiasm.  Ky was better, Testament's outfit was complete, and as far as he was concerned nothing could be better with the world for now.  Living with pirates was just as fun as he'd thought—he'd never been part of a crew before, and was thrilled by how easily he had made friends with nearly everyone on the ship.  He was even pleased with his new outfit; a blue and white sailor shirt with matching shorts, sandals that clasped at the ankles, and a sailor's cap that was a little too big for him and tilted constantly to one side.  Though he kind of missed his old attire, he reasoned that his new clothing was much more manly.

Bridget had almost reached the room when he came across Johnny and Lucy, stopped in the middle of the hall.  He blinked curiously and trotted up to them.  Johnny was reading from a sheet of paper—his face was grim.  "What is it?" Bridget asked brightly, rising up on his toes to see.

"An official statement the Global Police are spreading around," Johnny replied.  He thanked Lucy, who nodded and scurried off, before folding the paper and sliding it into his coat.  "We've got some bad news."

"Oh?  About Mr. Kiske?"  Bridget frowned thoughtfully.  "That's a shame, now that he's getting better."

"We'll give him a little more time to rest before telling him," Johnny decided, offering Bridget a slight smile.  "Do me a favor, and in about an hour fetch Testament for me.  He should hear this, too."

Bridget saluted.  "You can count on me," he declared.  "In the meantime, I'm going to see how Mr. Kiske's doing."

"All right."  Johnny started off the other way, adjusting his hat.  "Just don't worry him yet—he's recovering, you know."

"Gotcha."  And with that Bridget continued lightly down the hall.

To Next Chapter

Return


	3. Chapter 2

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 2

Up until Johnny called them all together, Ky had been feeling much better.  He was clean, wrapped in fresh bandages and nestled in cool sheets.  Though eating while on his stomach had started as a difficult task, it was April who finally suggested he drink the soup broth through a straw; despite his embarrassment the warmth was now settled comfortably in him.  Relieving himself was a little trickier, as it involved climbing out of bed with his sore back, but once on his feet his legs held his weight well enough for him to move about a bit.  It was progress, but he much preferred the stable mattress beneath him for now.

Presently the small room was cramped with bodies; Johnny and Testament were each leaning against a space of wall, Dizzy seated in the room's only chair with Bridget cross-legged at her feet, May perched lightly on the edge of Ky's bed.  Only Johnny seemed to know why they'd all been gathered and he didn't look happy about it, testimony to the gravity of the situation.  But he didn't speak his mind right away, instead turning the floor over to Ky.  They were anxious to hear his side of the events surrounding his injuries, after all, though he was not nearly as interested in telling them.

"I was on my way south toward the Benevento Settlement," Ky explained, "when my instruments detected the storm."  He felt somewhat awkward having to tell his story this way, stretched out on his stomach and not quite able to see everyone.  "I'm not as experienced a pilot as I'd like to be, so I landed in Genoa to wait for it to pass.  They…came out of nowhere."

Ky licked his lips.  He could feel all their gazes on him heavily, and it was somewhat unnerving with the memory of glowing eyes suddenly fresh in his mind.  They had crawled out of the darkness like wolves….  "At first I thought there was only a dozen of them, so I left my craft.  I was afraid their electric attacks would damage the equipment.  But as soon as I started towards them, more appeared.  I couldn't use Thunderseal's full power in the rain, so I did my best to keep them away from the vehicle and fight them blade to blade."

"And the explosion?" May asked impatiently.

"I didn't see where it came from."  He closed his eyes a moment, as if trying to make his jumbled memories fall into place, but he only remembered how it felt when his uniform was seared off his back, taking flesh with it.  "Somewhere behind me.  I thought it might have been my ship exploding, or one of the robots self-detonating, but I don't remember seeing or feeling any shrapnel.  It felt almost like an impact of magic, though I didn't think they were capable of something like that.  I tried to retreat, but there were too many of them, and in the end, I…"

Ky glanced over at Testament, but the man was still, unmoved by his short testimony.  "I had no other choice but to use Thunderseal."

"It was a risky move," Johnny remarked, though he sounded as if he approved.

"It was.  But I was willing to take a chance."

"Of course.  Though…it may have only bought you some time."  His expression darkening a little, he slipped a folded piece of paper out of his coat, passing it to Dizzy so she could show it to Ky.  "That report was issued just a few hours ago, from the European branch of the Global Police," Johnny explained for the others' benefit.  "It seems that our Officer Kiske here missed some kind of appointment two days ago that clued the public into his being MIA.  So they had to make a statement."

Ky scanned the report quickly, a slight frown tipping his lips.  The report was fairly straightforward, citing where and when Ky had made his last report, though naturally saying nothing of the nature of his investigation.  It was all proper and procedural, except there that was something about the last few lines that struck an odd chord in the officer.  He frowned down at it severely.  "What exactly is this report implying?" he wondered aloud, his eyes meeting Johnny's.

May, who was obviously annoyed at being in the dark, snatched the paper away from him to read for herself.  "'However,'" she read precisely, "'this is not the first incident in which Officer Kiske has neglected to make his reports, and it is therefore the opinion of this office that no great concern as to his well being is yet warranted.'  Hmph, that's not very nice."  She tossed it back towards Ky, but the paper floated out of his reach to be snatched up by Bridget, who also read through it with Dizzy looking over his shoulder.

"They're making it sound as if you do this a lot," Bridget remarked.  "You're not a slacker, are you?"

"Of course not," Ky objected.  He reached out, and Bridget obediently handed the report to him.  "It's a blatant exaggeration which I find offensive."

Dizzy folded her hands in her lap as she glanced between everyone present.  "Can't we just take Ky home?" she suggested.  "He's clearly been injured—then everyone will know it's not his fault."

But Johnny's face was grim, and he waved vaguely towards May.  "May, will you go fetch what we were talking about earlier?"

"Sure thing, Johnny."  May hurried out of the room, excited to be helping,.

"I don't think you quite understand the situation you're in right now, Ky." Johnny said, plucking his sunglasses off.  "Going back now could be just as dangerous as the fight we pulled you out of."

Ky's eyes narrowed at the elder man.  "What are you talking about?"

May returned suddenly, her arms full with two wrapped bundles: one nearly as long as she was tall, the other round and about the size of a small basketball.  Johnny thanked her and set both on the table.  "I'm talking about these," he told everyone, uncovering the first: a sword, long with a white blade and a blue jewel recessed into the metal near the handle.  It was badly scorched and covered in hairline cracks, but very recognizable.

"That's…"  Though it still hurt Ky pushed himself stubbornly upright, into a sitting position.  "That is not my Thunderseal," he said confidently, keeping one hand on the bed's headrest to support him.  "It's a cheap imitation."

"You're right.  May and I were comparing the two, earlier.  Yours is in much better shape, too," he added for Ky's benefit.  "We pulled a dozen of these out of Genoa, along with this."  He pulled back the covering on the other object, revealing a head of scorched blond hair and a grotesque metal face--the head of a robot.  "There were about twenty around you, as far as we could tell from the pieces, and at least another thirty spread out over a mile radius.  It really must have been some fight."

Ky's expression hardened.  "It was.  Now, please continue."

Johnny smirked a little at his serious tone, but continued as he'd been asked.  "Anyway, that's about fifty of these things, give or take, not to mention some we've spotted on our own.  It seems like they're all over the place.  Someone's really invested in their construction for there to be so many in so short a time."

"That's what I've been investigating," Ky said with a short nod.  "Zepp should be crossing over this area soon, and I was hoping to further my inquires there with a Dr. Galleon."

Johnny and Testament both glanced at him significantly, making Ky sit up a little taller.  "What is it?"

"Just funny you should mention him," Johnny said with a shrug.

Testament, for the first time looking as if he were really paying attention to the discussions, suggested, "Maybe you should just tell him the whole thing up front.  It'll save us time, rather than you walking everyone through it."

Johnny sighed, scratching at the back of his neck.  "I guess you're right."  He took a deep breath as he faced Ky once more.  "All right.  Now, don't freak on us, but…I think—and Testament agrees—that your superiors have betrayed you.  That they're going to disband the Global Police and replace it with these robots."

Ky was so stunned that he merely stared at the pair for a long time, his face blank.  The idea was too preposterous to laugh at, to even acknowledge.  It might not even have been worth it to refute such blatant foolishness.  But Johnny's stern expression didn't waver, and Testament looked as cold as he ever did.  They were being serious.  Ky snorted quietly.  "Ridiculous.  Disband the police?  It's absurd."

May shot him a childish glare, but Johnny cut in before she could protest. "I know, I know.  But hear me through."  When it looked as if Ky would allow him at least that much he sighed slightly and continued.  "Like I was saying, these robots aren't easy business.  They're top-notch, well equipped, and there are lots of them.  Whoever's making them is pumping them out by the dozen.  Not to mention these."  He twisted the blackened sword between his hands.  "They look like Thunderseal, for sure, but as far as we can figure they don't run on magic—there's no way a robot can control such sensitive magic, anyway.  It's probably running on something a little more old-fashioned, like the electric generators Zepp uses."

Ky nodded, thinking it best to indulge Johnny in his explanation.  These were all things he'd considered before.  "That's why I thought of Dr. Galleon.  Since he was educated in Zepp, I thought he would have some insight as to who might be responsible for these…things."

"Yeah."  Johnny pursed his lips and went on.  "Anyway, back to the police."  He nodded toward the report Ky was still holding unconsciously in his fist.  "That report is only the start.  They admit to the public you're missing, implying you've done it before.  People start to wonder.  Rumors circulate.  You either come back fine and raise suspicion, or come back busted up and admit defeat.  Either way your reputation is going to suffer, especially since you can't really explain what you were investigating, now can you?"  He placed the sword abruptly aside.  "So what then?  The government controls the media, and there's any number of people controlling the government—with public opinion against you, they can spread any story they want to discredit you and divide your officers.  Maybe even that you're trying to defect."

Ky's eyes narrowed on him dangerously, his hand clenching on the headboard.  "Ridiculous," he snapped again.  "I would never, and my officers know that."

"Are you calling Johnny a liar?" May finally challenged, her pent up frustration coming through.  "'Cause he's a lot smarter than you, you ungrateful little—"

"I'm saying there is no way I would betray my own men!"

"May, Mr. Kiske, please," Dizzy tried to calm them, glancing between the pair.  "Please, let's just listen to everything he has to say, and then we can try to make sense of it together.  All right?"

May crossed her arms in a pout, and scowled fiercely at Bridget, who was giggling at her from beneath his hand.  Ky glanced away from them all to regain his composure.  He was a little embarrassed about the outburst, as he knew there was no point it taking his frustrations out on them.  But all this talk was beginning to solidify in his brain and make it ache.  "So you're saying," he surmised as calmly and evenly as he could manage, "that our own government is going to destroy the order that it created?"

"He's saying," Testament interrupted firmly, "that they're going to replace it with a new order.  With these machines.  You and your men are now expendable."

When Testament spoke the words they were cold, unimpassioned, and yet it wasn't until then that Ky even began to admit the possibility that they were true; the Gear's severe expression allowed for no argument or denial.  Ky's jaw tensed as he listened, forced to take it all in; the situation was falling quickly out of his hands.

"It's probably been a long time in coming," Testament went on.  "These things take time and planning.  It's not surprising that you're the top of their list; an officer of the law, a well-known public figure, and advocate of justice.  If they were somehow able to shake your position it would leave the public susceptible to a new figurehead.  Such as the unwavering order a machine can provide."

Ky's jaw worked tensely as the Gear fell abruptly silent.  He imagined he was being allowed time to comment, but he suddenly had no way to defend himself.  Finally he licked his lips and met Testament's sole gaze.  "There is no proof.  Even if that were so, this report is nothing more than an attempt to calm public concern.  It lends nothing to these theories of yours."

Testament regarded him calmly, and just when it appeared that he would speak again he turned abruptly to Johnny.  "Show him the rest."

Johnny was reluctant, but by now everyone was watching him expectantly.  With a helpless shrug he picked up the robot head by the hair and flipped it over, making unseen adjustments.  "We have a few computer geeks on board," he explained, and with a flick of his fingers the head hummed to life.  When he set it back down the wide robotic eyes were glowing pale gold.  "They managed to hotwire this thing—not very well, but enough to get to it's brain."  He pointed to his own head for effect.  "A battery and a speaker is all we need to make him spill his robot guts.  Like this."  He tapped the top of it.  "Hey, Robo Ky."

Ky glared at him.  "Robo Ky?" he echoed with annoyance.

"It does look like you," Bridget spoke up from the floor.

Johnny cleared his throat.  "Yeah, well, that's what we've been calling it.  Robo Ky—tell us what your purpose is."

The severed machine hummed and whirled, its eyes flashing as it generated the answer.  "TO_ FOLLOW_ THE_ COMMANDS_ SET_BY_MY_PROGRAM."

"And what commands are those?"

Another whirl.  "TO_APPREHEND_ OR_ DISPOSE_ OF_ THOSE_ INDICATED_ BY_ MY_ SUPERIORS."

Johnny nodded thoughtfully.  "Who have you been ordered to apprehend?"

The eyes darkened for a moment, then returned, a bit brighter than before.  "JELLYFISH PIRATE MAY," the robot reported precisely.  "BAIKEN.  WU JIN.  MITO ANJI.  CHIPP ZANUFF—"

"That's enough," Johnny interrupted, glancing at Ky to make sure he understood.  All of those names had been on the bounty lists that had been circulating recently.  "Now, who have you been ordered to 'dispose of'?"

"ANY_ AND_ ALL_ UNIDENTIFIED_ GEARS.  JELLYFISH_ PIRATE_ JOHNNY.  GLOBAL_ POLICE_ OFFICER_ KY_ KISKE."

Ky's fingers clenched, but he forced himself to relax.  That wasn't anything he hadn't already known—his battle four days ago was proof enough that someone wanted him dead.  "That does not prove anything," he objected.  "Anyone could have—"

"Then let's ask him," Johnny suggested, his patience also wearing thin.  "How about it, Robo Ky?  Who are your superiors?"

The response took longer in coming than the previous answers, and Ky waited anxiously even knowing he had already guessed the answer.  "THE_ POSTWAR_ ADMINISTRATION_ BUREAU."

Before Ky could comment, Johnny quickly added, "Who was responsible for your creation?"

The robot whirled and clicked, replying, "UNKNOWN."

Johnny rolled his eyes.  "I mean, who created the design for you?"

Another long pause.  "DR._ ARTHUR_ GALLEON."

Ky had never been known for being easily rattled, and yet they all clearly saw the shock that flashed behind his wide, blue eyes.  It might have even been unsettling, judging by the way Dizzy and Bridget both shifted, to see the man so blatantly distressed.  Especially when neither of them understood the cause.  Dizzy looked to Johnny for explanation.

"Arthur Galleon is a scientist specializing in robotics," Testament said instead, his gaze focused severely on Ky.  "He works for the United Nations--Ky's superiors."

Ky took in a long, deep breath.  "I don't believe it," he said with quiet firmness.  "Dr. Galleon is a highly respected researcher—I spoke to him myself once before.  He's not capable of this kind of destruction—that thing could have been programmed to say that."

Testament snorted and pushed abruptly away from the wall.  "Believe what you want.  It won't change anything."

"How can I believe it?  You're telling me—"

"Get used to it," the Gear snapped abruptly, startling them all with his sudden vehemence.  Even Johnny flinched away from him.  "They've used you, and now you're through—that's all.  It happens all the time, so don't act so damn surprised."  With a scowl he turned, heading for the door.

Dizzy started to call after him, hesitated, and tried again.  "Testament—"

"Let him go back.  Then he'll see for himself."  He jerked the door open, not bothering to close it behind him as he disappeared down the hall.

A long, tense silence was left in Testament's wake.  May and Bridget exchanged childish, wide-eyed looks, while Dizzy stared at the floor and Johnny scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.  Ky remained very still, head lowered, eyes unseeing.  Somehow, it was Testament's words again, spoken with such certainty, which seemed to instill the reality of his situation into him.  It was a cold truth that sent a hard shudder down his spine and made the space behind his ribs ache, as if he couldn't breathe.  None of this made sense, even though he could feel their words settling into him.

"If…it's all true," Ky said, very softly, "why are you telling me this?  What do you—any of you—have to gain by helping me?"

"What, huh?"  Though Ky didn't look up he could hear the shift of leather as Johnny shrugged.  "You're not a bad guy, Kiske, and none of us want to see what the Bureau has in store for us.  May and I are on their list, too, after all."  His tone lowered.  "Besides, we're better off with men like you in charge.  I know a robot won't go easy on the children on this ship."

Though he had spoken seriously, the effect was ruined somewhat when May impishly replied, "We're not all children."

Johnny chuckled.  "Of course not.  Well."  He lifted the robot head in one hand so he could switch it off once more before returning it to the table.  "Let's give Ky some time to rest, eh?  He's had a rough time as it is, and I'm sure he wants to think some things over."

"Okay, Johnny."

The pair headed for the door.  "Dizzy, Bridget," Johnny called over his shoulder.  "You, too, hm?"

"Oh."  Dizzy pushed awkwardly to her feet, glancing between him and Ky.  "Yes, you're right."  But the blonde didn't lift his head, and after a moment she fell into step behind her companions.

Ky barely heard them leave.  He was still seated on the bed, knuckles white as he gripped the wooden headboard, a tiny, weary tremble spreading through his limbs.  He felt as if he had been left once more in Genoa—cold, helpless, even.  Everything refused to make sense to him, and just when he thought he'd fit it together his insides raged in denial, shattering the half-formed revelations.

"Are you all right?"

He started at the soft voice so close to his ear; he thought the others had left.  "I'm all right," he murmured.  Even he cringed at how hoarse his voice sounded.  "I just need some time.  Some time to think…I have to think."  He wilted, shoulders sagging as he pressed his face into his hand and sighed.  "Sol…was this what you were trying to warn me about?" His face twisted in a grimace.  "Did you know this was going to happen?"

A pair of gentle hands fell over his, carefully peeling it away from the wood he had been gripping.  His fingers were aching and stiff—he hadn't realized they were so tightly clenched.  When he raised his gaze it was into a pair of wide blue eyes.  "Bridget?"

The boy smiled hopefully.  "Why don't I take you back myself?" he suggested.  "I'm a registered bounty hunter—I could say I rescued you from the pirates while looking for a bounty.  They'd…believe that, wouldn't they?  And everyone would be glad you're back."

Ky sighed, though he did feel some of the tension dissipate from his stomach.  He simply couldn't hold onto his frustration with Bridget looking so innocent and helpful.  It was relieving—he was afraid he might have become ill.  "If Johnny and Testament are right, it might not matter who believes me.  Someone…is after my life."  He rubbed at his eyes.  "Wherever I go, the people around me will be put in danger.  But if I stay in hiding for a while, here…"

Bridget considered this seriously for a long moment, and Ky was silently grateful for even just the comforting presence at his side.  Slowly, his eyes swept the room he now occupied.  Here with the Jellyfish Pirates…it was unlikely that anyone knew about it yet.  If he could heal, perhaps, and try to figure out what it was the people behind this were really after, there might be a chance of solving this mess.

His attention was drawn to the robot head still resting across from him.  Even when dormant it was unsettling.  But when Bridget shifted next to him, preparing to speak, he abruptly straightened.  "Bridget.  You're…a bounty hunter, right?"

"Huh?"  He blinked at Ky, puzzled.  "Yeah.  Or maybe…I was?"

"Then you know those names the robot was listing off?"

"Yeah."  Bridget brightened a little at the prospect of being useful.

"There might even be more," Ky thought aloud, remembering how Johnny had cut it off.  "If we can figure out why they're all wanted…what they intend to do with those they apprehend…maybe it will give us some clue as to their intentions."  It may have only been wishful thinking, and he knew that, but he clung to it; even if Johnny and Testament were correct in their assumptions he would not sit idly by and let the names of his comrades be slandered.

Bridget nodded, and though his eyes were gleaming he seemed to be taking this seriously.  "What should I do?"

"Find some paper, and something to write with," Ky instructed.  His head was beginning to ache, so he stretched out on the bed once more as Bridget hurried to do as he asked.  He wasn't used to lying on his stomach like this but he had little other choice with his back the way it was.  "If it's all right, I'd like to make a list of all the names the robot has."

"What about the man?" Bridget asked as he dragged the room's only chair up to the table.  He poked at the robotic head gingerly with the pencil he'd found.

"The…man?"

"The man that was with the robots," Bridget explained, as if it were obvious.  "Testament was talking about it before.  Didn't he tell you?"

Ky frowned, but he suspected his memory was no better off than it had been earlier.  "No, he didn't mention it.  I thought it was just the robots…."

Bridget shrugged.  "I don't really know, either.  He just mentioned there was someone there that wasn't one of these ugly guys."  He tapped the robot sharply on the head.  "Mean little suckers."

"So…that's something else for us to figure out."  Determined not to let himself get discouraged, Ky took in a deep breath and set his focus back on Bridget.  "All right, then.  Let's get started."

*****

The blade missed Baiken's foot by mere inches as she rolled, tucking her body so that she would be ready to spring back up in a counter attack.  She did, however, feel the heat of electricity licking at her ankles.  Somewhere during the battle her sandal had fallen away, and the bottom of her foot was already blistered from the dry soil that made up their unexpected battleground.  "Bastards," she hissed.  She planted her weight suddenly, one arch of her sword cleaving the heads of three of her pursuers.  "Anji!"

"Yeah, Sis?"  She hadn't been paying attention to her traveling companion during the scuffle, but suddenly he was just behind her, their backs pressed together.  "Holding up?"

Baiken tried to shrug him off.  "Just keep your eyes open—they're everywhere."

"Same to you."  Then he was off again, a sudden gust of wind against Baiken's back signaling the use of his Zessen.  Judging that he was holding his own well enough she charged back into the fray, aiming for the joints of their mechanical adversaries.  They were persistent if nothing else; she caught a few trying to fight with missing arms, some even headless.  She took some satisfaction in their destruction, if not because of the adrenaline than simply because they were dressed in the uniforms of the police.  If her foot wasn't throbbing, she might even have been enjoying herself.

Eventually, though, she began to wear down.  A few glancing blows against her shoulder had jarred her sword arm, and there seemed to be no end to the number of tireless machines waiting to challenge her.  She fell back a few steps, gathering her breath, when warm metal snaked around her ankle.

"INITIATING_ SELF_ DESTRUCT."

Baiken cursed, twisting to try and free herself from the robot's grip, but merely succeeding in scraping off skin.  From this angle she wouldn't be able to bring her sword around, either.  Growing suddenly panicked she jerked her shoulder, intending to use one of her iron weapons.  But there was no time.  "Anji—"

A muscular arm twisted around her waist, and she barely had time to curse again as she was dragged roughly away from the now shattered limb of the robot, over the edge of an embankment.  There was a dizzying fall, followed by a gut-wrenching halt as the pair suddenly struck earth.  Baiken gasped weakly for her lost breath as the man's thick bicep dug into her stomach.  She began to struggle--the explosion stopped her a moment later, and though she was still caught against the larger body she could lift her head enough to see chunks of burning metal flying overhead, wreathed in black smoke.

Baiken was abruptly released, and she hissed angrily as she was dropped ungracefully into the dust.  "Damnit, Anji—"  Wrapping an arm around her bruised stomach she rolled onto her side so she could fix him with a severe glare.  But by then the man was gone—she just barely caught a glimpse of his thick boots as he leapt over the short cliffside they had just fallen from.

"Baiken!"  Anji came running up to her then, his face creased with worry as he dropped to her side.  "Are you all right?  That was some explosion!"

Baiken took another moment to draw her breath back to her before pushing to her feet.  The sounds of battle had continued overhead, this time punctuated by a familiar voice and crackling fire.  "Shit," she swore, rubbing the sting out of her abdomen and shaking Anji off when he tried to help her.  "What's _he_ doing here?"

"Huh?"  Anji glanced up as well, and when Baiken began to claw her way back up the embankment he hastily followed.  "What happened?  Who was it?"

"Quiet."  Baiken at last dragged herself over the edge of earth with her good arm; even she had to gape a moment at the scene before them.  It looked as if the explosion from the robot had cleared out most of its fellows; it was hard to tell, as the rest were scorched beyond recognition and broken into dozens of piece.  They littered the dusty landscape like toys scattered in the remnants of a house fire.  The sight was momentarily humbling, but Baiken gathered herself a moment later to glare at the man standing at the center.  "I didn't ask for your help," she called to him, sheathing her sword at her hip.

Sol glanced at her over his shoulder with a cool smirk.  "You're welcome."


	4. Chapter 3

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 3

Dizzy was quiet as she and Testament shared dinner together early that evening.  The rest of the crew was still out and about, finishing their duties on the ship or simply visiting with their friends.  She envied them a little right now.  After all the events of that afternoon Dizzy's heart was heavy with sympathy for the man they had taken in; not to mention the fear nestled in the back of her mind that had sprung to life when that robot mentioned the names of her friends.  If their enemy was strong enough to challenge even Ky Kiske himself and reduce him to such a state, there was no telling what would happen to this ship, or her companions.

She lifted her head slightly, glancing at Testament across the table.  She had agreed to eat with him before the rest of the crew because she had been hoping for some words of encouragement and reassurance.  So far she had been disappointed.  He had offered to protect her, as he always did, but she knew better than to believe his words extended to the rest of the Jellyfish Pirates.  She wanted to believe that he was progressing--seeing him with the younger girls had warmed her with relief, simply know that he was coming to accept these people, as she had.  But all that hope seemed to have been shattered in the single exchange with Ky.  According to those that had seen him, Testament had retreated to his room shortly after the incident, and since then hadn't spoken a word to anyone save Dizzy herself.  Watching him know now was no way to judge his emotions; whether he was frustrated, angry, or simply indifferent.  But he wasn't meeting her eyes, which made her wonder if he felt guilty.

"Testament," Dizzy attempted softly, turning her spoon about idly in her stew.  "You…were pretty harsh towards Ky earlier."

Testament continued to eat as if he hadn't heard, and she was about to speak again when he finally replied, "He needed to hear it."

"But he's had a hard time."  At least he was talking.  "It must come as a tremendous shock.  Don't you feel sorry for him?"

"Why should I?"

Dizzy frowned disapprovingly.  "I thought you, of all people, could appreciate what he must be going through," she said quietly.

She got the reaction she had been expecting; Testament paused in his eating, and for a moment his eyes looked hollow, as if having lost their shade.  Though she knew it might have been cruel on her part to be raising old memories in him, she hoped it would help him reach some of the compassion he had shown these past few days.

"That's exactly why I can't pity him," Testament told her, just as quietly.  "It was his kind that betrayed and hunted ours.  He has no right to complain if he suffers from the same now."

"Testament…." Dizzy sighed; this wasn't going as well as she'd hoped.  "You don't have to pity him.  But can you simply go easy on him?  He has enough to worry about without you trying to hurt his feelings."  She hesitated, and when it didn't look as if he would respond she added, "For my sake."

Testament's eyes thinned, and as she knew he would he nodded slightly.  "All right."

Dizzy lowered her gaze.  Though she had technically succeeded in convincing Testament to go easy Ky, it was a hollow victory if he was only doing it for her sake.  It was frustrating, and her heart ached for the cold man seated across from her.  "Testament," she murmured, barely aware she was speaking aloud.  "Won't you ever stop hurting over the past?"

Testament paused again, this time lowering his spoon to the bowl's edge as if having lost his appetite.  Slowly he lifted his gaze to her, and when the silence became too thick she had to look.  She had seen that face on him before, and it pained her; his eyes, usually so bright with the gleam of his magic, were dull like dusty glass.  It forced her to remember how short her own life was compared to his, all the things in his history she had been too afraid to ask about.  For a moment she was speechless, and then he lowered his head once more, returning to his meal.

"I'll go easy on him," Testament promised, stopping for another sip of his dinner.  "As long as he's on this ship."

The galley door opened suddenly, and Dizzy jumped a little in her chair as the hinges creaked.  Her eyes widened on the unexpected figure there.  "Mr. Kiske!  You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

Ky held his head up, glancing between the pair with a fresh light in his eyes—it was nearly a match for Bridget's own, who had supported the man in his walk through the ship.

"I am on my way to the bridge," Ky said precisely, nodding to Dizzy briefly as a show of gratitude for her concern.  "But first, I would like a brief word with Testament."

*****

Baiken groaned quietly as she lowered herself to a rounded boulder, already reaching inside her ragged _kimono_ for her pipe.  Her stomach was bruised, as was her left shoulder, and her ankle and foot were bleeding from all the rough treatment.  She held up the offending foot expectantly; ever the gentlemen, Anji had no qualms in dumping a bit of fresh water over it to clean the wounds.  She hissed quietly as it stung in the early evening air.  "So."  Succeeding in lighting her pipe, she raised her gaze at last to Sol.  "I guess I owe you, or something."

"You owe me a drink," Sol replied smartly, nudging one of the fallen robots with the tip of his sword.  "Whatever you have with you, and we'll call it even."

Baiken scowled; all they had with them was one jug of _saké_—expensive stuff that she had been saving for when they reached a town with a place to stay.  Anji raised an eyebrow at her as he dabbed some medicine on her lacerations.  But Sol was watching her expectantly, and with a sigh she dug into her travel pack.  "Take it," she grumbled as she tossed the bottle to him.  "Though I wasn't _that_ grateful, you know."

Sol regarded the label critically.  Baiken snorted, about to tell him he could give it back if he disapproved, but he abruptly twisted the top off and drank a quarter of it down on one breath.  He sighed.  "Not bad.  I haven't had a good drink in a while."

Baiken rolled her eyes, her foot jerking a little at Anji's treatment.  "Yeah, well, you'd better enjoy it."

Sol wandered over, sitting heavily down nearby as he took another long gulp.  "Aren't you two the happy couple," he remarked wryly.  "A little far out for a honeymoon, aren't you?"

She was sure that if she'd had her other eye, she could have very well killed him by glare alone.  It didn't help that Anji blushed and laughed like an idiot.  "Since you're so curious, we're on our way to Rome," she informed him gruffly.  "We're traveling together 'cause it's convenient."

Sol shrugged indifferently.  "Rome, huh?  'All roads', I guess."

Anji glanced up at him with a frown.  "What's that mean?"

"Hm?  Oh.  Guess it's before your time."  He smirked bitterly around the bottle as he enjoyed his reparations.

Looking perturbed by his attitude, Anji turned his gaze back to Baiken's foot.  "Well, where are _you_ going, then?"

Sol snorted.  "None of your business."

"Then I guess we'll see you there."

Sol shot him a glare.  "Not likely."  He didn't let Anji gloat over his slight victory for long; his tone was still light but something hardened behind his dark eyes.  "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Anji's posture became rigid, his eyes darting as if trying to avoid Sol's gaze.  When they finally stopped their shifting they were held by Baiken's.  He was going to say it—she knew he would, because he was so damn honest, and she interrupted before he could make that mistake.  "No.  No, neither of us did."

Sol frowned slightly.  She could feel his eyes moving over them both, judging the sincerity of her words.  Whether he believed her or not, he didn't comment on it again.  With a grunt the man pushed to his feet.  "Thanks for the drink," he said, shaking the already half-empty bottle.  "Don't get yourselves killed out here."

Relieved that he was leaving, Baiken relaxed a little to suck on her pipe.  But he turned back suddenly; her body tensed as if expecting an attack, but he only cast an easy gaze in her direction.  "Hey.  Have you heard anything about the kid that's missing?"

"Kid?" Baiken echoed.  "You mean that officer?  Kiske?"

"Yeah."

She and Anji exchanged significant looks, but the latter merely lowered his head.  There was a gleam of uncertainty in his face that she didn't like.  "Just that he _is_ missing," Baiken replied for the both of them.  "But if you're looking for information, Rome really is your best bet."

"I didn't say I was going," Sol muttered as he turned again to leave.  "See ya."

Baiken's expression darkened as she watched the man depart, kicking his way through the waste left by the destroyed robots.  It wasn't until he was nearly out of sight that she was finally able to relax; she cursed through a puff of smoke as she leaned back.

Anji glanced up at her hesitantly as he began to wrap her foot in some gauze.  "You didn't let me tell him," he murmured thoughtfully.  She didn't like the way he was watching her, a mixture of puzzlement and gratitude.  It made him look even more naïve.  "About what I…"

Baiken took in a long breath and let it out slowly, not meeting his gaze.  "Do you know what he'd do, if you told him what you told me?" she asked evenly.

"Well…no…."

"Then it's a good thing you kept your mouth shut."  She tapped her pipe lightly on the rock.  "You may be all into your knowledge, but I guarantee a man like Sol Badguy doesn't give a shit.  So watch yourself, especially once we get to Rome."

Anji nodded solemnly.  He had been quiet lately—she didn't blame him, as she knew he had much to consider after his recent encounter.  Even now there were times she paused to watch him, noting the subtle strengthening of maturity behind his eyes.  It was the price one paid for truth, and it made something tighten deep her chest, as if in mourning.

Baiken scowled, tugging her foot out of Anji's hands so she could tie the gauze off herself.  She wiggled her toes; her foot was sore, but nothing was numb.  "You haven't seen my sandal, have you?" she changed the subject.  "We should get away from here in case someone comes looking for their robots."

"You're probably right," Anji agreed, shaking out his long pants as he stood.  "Will you be able to walk on that foot?  It looks painful."

"No shit."  But it held her weight, and even if it throbbed it was good enough to last until nightfall.  With all the gauze it almost felt as if she were wearing a shoe anyway.  "I'll manage.  Besides, we have to find shelter before dark."  She held her pipe between her teeth so she could heft her things over her shoulder.  "Are you all right?"

"Yeah."  Anji quickly hunted around for his own pack, tugging it over his shoulders before trotting back to her side.  "Are you sure you can walk like that?"

Baiken gave him a shove to get him moving.  "Shut up—I said I'm all right."  She started across the scorched landscape in the direction Sol had gone earlier.  Though she didn't like the idea of following him across the damn country, it seemed they were headed toward the same place after all.  "All roads indeed," she muttered, glancing back only briefly to make sure Anji was following.  If Sol was already on the move, she doubted he was the last familiar face they would come across.

*****

Testament didn't look up right away.  Instead he watched the ripples progressing slowly across his soup bowl, as if deeply engrossed in their shifting patterns.  He had been wondering all afternoon how best to react to Ky when he saw him again, whether it be with cold condescension or calm indifference—despite his recent promise to Dizzy, sympathy might not yet be an option.  Though indifference seemed to be the easiest choice, when Ky made his appearance in the galley something of his earlier relief tugged at the back of his skull.  It was impressive to see Ky walking about so soon after waking, and it indicated his recovery would be swift.  It was good news he could not claim to be unaffected by.

Testament let the spoon slip from his fingers.  "What is it?"

"About the night you found me."  Ky's voice had returned to the serious, formal tone he was used to hearing from him.  "Bridget said you mentioned there was another man there."

"I'm not sure what I saw," Testament admitted, tossing his hair over his shoulder with a flick of his head as he at last met the man's gaze.  "It was only a moment, but it wasn't one of the robots.  It was a man."  His fingers curled against the table.  "Or a Gear."

Ky considered this for a long moment, and Testament took the chance to look him over.  He was standing more or less upright, and though his hand was settled on Bridget's shoulder, he didn't appear to be depending on him too severely.  He appeared much calmer now as well, though Testament couldn't tell if it was because he'd decided to accept his situation or deny it outright.

"Can you tell me anything else?" Ky asked.

"I couldn't see it very well.  But it was definitely a man—his eyes were dark."  Testament shrugged slightly.  "That's all I know."

"I see."  Ky was silent again, and then straightened, his eyes focusing solidly on Testament's.  Their intensity was somehow captivating.  "Then there was only one other thing.  I wanted to thank you properly for having saved my life."

Testament turned his head down once more.  "I already told you why I did it," he replied shortly, trying to ignore the way Dizzy was watching him.  "There's no need for that."

"Still, I know it could not have been easy for you," Ky persisted.  "And given our…respective histories…I still think it necessary."  He nodded slightly.  "You have my thanks."

Testament glared down at the rest of his soup, as if it would somehow supply him with an appropriate response.  When it failed him, he had no choice but to answer, "You're welcome."

Dizzy smiled at him across the table as if proud, and that, oddly, only confused his feelings further.  It was not as if he were incapable of accepting gratitude.  He might have even been pleased that Ky would go to such lengths to express his appreciation; he'd thought for a while that Ky would be too proud to thank a Gear, savior or no.

"You were going to the bridge?" Testament changed the subject abruptly.

"Yes—yes, that's right."  Ky straightened, as if having pulled himself from some deep thoughts of his own.  He looked pleased.  "After tonight I'll be moving out of that room, and possibly in with you and Bridget for the rest of my time here.  I hope neither of you will mind too much."

"I don't mind," Bridget giggled next to him.

Testament frowned, but he nodded.  "It doesn't matter to me."

"Thank you."  He threw the sentiment around too much.  "In that case, I suppose I'll be seeing you later."  He nodded to Dizzy.  "And thank you, Dizzy, for caring for me."

"It was my pleasure, really," she replied lightly.

"Good evening, both of you."  Ky nodded once more before slipping outside once more, Bridget waving his own goodbyes as he followed.

"Take care!" Dizzy called after them.  Once they were gone she returned her gaze to Testament with a grin.  "See?  That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Having suddenly lost his appetite, Testament pushed to his feet and collected his dishes.  "I said I would go easy on him," he reminded her as he carried the remains of his meal toward the kitchen.

"That's not what I…."

She broke off, returning to her own meal with an almost solemn air.  The sudden silence made Testament turn; it hadn't been his intention to upset her.  And as he had done nothing wrong, he could think of no way to apologize.  Ky had thanked him, he had accepted…if she expected any more from him, perhaps she had been overestimating him all along.  One courtesy certainly wasn't enough to justify him being civil, let alone pleasant.

"Goodnight, Dizzy."  

Testament passed smoothly behind her, and though he could hear her licking her lips as if to speak, he did not stop or turn as he left the galley.

*****

Ky couldn't help but feel somewhat accomplished as he and Bridget made their way toward the ship's bridge.  Bridget especially seemed abnormally pleased for having done nothing.  He claimed it was because he'd been worried about Testament's reaction; though they had been bunkmates for several days now, there was no way to predict his mood after the scene that morning.

"I have to admit," Ky said as they went, his arm hooked around Bridget's for balance, "I was a bit intimidated myself."

"Y'see?  He's not a bad guy, but sometimes he's kind of scary."  Bridget hummed thoughtfully for a moment.  "You should have seen him, though, when we brought you on board.  He seemed really worried about you."

Ky pursed his lips as he tried to imagine the scene, but he remembered even less of that than he did of his fight in the city.  "Was he?"

"Yeah."  Bridget grinned at him broadly.  "You two should get to know each other better.  Maybe you could cheer him up."

"That's…." Ky escaped the boy's eyes, a sudden hollowness seeping into his chest.  "Considering our history," he said quietly, "I…somehow doubt that."

"Oh?  What do you mean?"

"It's nothing."  Thankfully they reached the bridge then, allowing Ky to change the subject.  "Here we are.  Thank you for your help, Bridget."

"Sure."

Ky entered, leaning a little on Bridget's arm as he suddenly faced half a dozen young female faces.  It took him a moment to spot the one he was looking for: May was leaning over what might have been a radar screen at the far end of the chamber.  Before he could call for her, however, a deep voice on his left startled him.

"Can I help you, boys?"

"Hey, Johnny," Bridget greeted cheerily before Ky could turn enough to see him.

"Yo."  Johnny, who was leaning easily against the wall just to the door's left, tipped his hat up.  Though his voice was light Ky could see that his posture wasn't quite as relaxed as usual, as if expecting some confrontation after that morning.  "Didn't except to see ya up so soon, Kiske.  Feeling better?"

"Much better, thank you," Ky replied crisply, hoping to calm any apprehension the man might have had.  He hadn't come here to start another argument.  "I don't want to interrupt, but I have a favor to ask of the Jellyfish Pirates."

Johnny's lips curled in a subtle smirk.  "Then you'd better ask their captain," he replied, jerking his thumb back.

"And that's me!"  Ky turned just as May advanced on them, her hands on her hips and chin proudly lifted.  "You have business to discuss, you talk to me.  Got it?"

"Aye aye, Ma'am!" Bridget chirped happily.

"Not you."  May stuck her tongue out at him, spoiling her captain-like air only a moment before turning back on Ky with a serious gleam in her childish eyes.  "You may speak."

As he wasn't quite used to such energetic antics, Ky had to pause a moment before he remembered what exactly he had been preparing to ask.  He tried to stand a little taller at Bridget's side to show May—or maybe just Johnny—that he was serious in making this request.  It was a little unnerving, however, with the rest of the bridge crew watching him so intently.  "Captain May.  I'd like to request that you allow me to remain on your ship for a while longer."

May straightened, apparently determined to take him just as formally.  But her voice was too young, too tipped with excitement to be very effective.  "And why might that be, Mr. Kiske?"

Ky swallowed hard.  It had not been an easy conclusion to arrive at, and even now he couldn't rid himself of the frustration gnawing at his stomach.  But he clenched his fist, determined to see his mission through if nothing else.  "I haven't yet decided if everything I heard this morning is the truth," he said precisely.  "I intend to find out.  Until then I'll need help investigating, and on the chance that my life may be in danger, I've decided not to return to the Global Police until I've found my answers."  He paused only briefly.  "Which is why I'd like to remain on this ship.  These robots pose a danger to us all, and it is my belief that if we work together, we'll be able to discover their origins and hopefully solve the problem for our mutual benefit."

May stared at him for a moment, as if trying to puzzle through his words—he caught her gaze slipping to Johnny, but he couldn't see what look the man returned it with.  "And what will you give me?" she asked, crossing her arms.  "If you stay here, those Robo Kys might come looking for you."

Withholding his protests of the term "Robo Ky" he lowered his head slightly.  "I have little to offer you," he confessed.  "Separated from the police I cannot grant you any kind of pardons or immunity, and until my strength returns I can't even promise you my protection.  All I have is my word that I'll do everything in my power to repay you when the opportunity arises."

May frowned, but brightened quickly enough.  "Well, I guess it's okay with me," she declared, giving up trying to sound beyond her years.  All around, the other girls giggled among each other.  "Let's just say you owe us and leave it at that.  Besides,"  she looked again to Johnny, "we were thinking of hunting those things down ourselves."

"That's right," Johnny replied.  "We'll have to deal with them sooner or later anyway."  He pushed away from the wall.  "So as long as you behave yourself, I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

Ky sighed quietly in relief.  His ill ease hadn't faded completely; even by asking to stay here he was admitting to the possibility that he had been betrayed at home.  Moreover, once he had healed and their assistance was no longer necessary, they would again be on opposite sides of the law.  But for now, at least, he had a place to stay while he recovered, and allies to count on as he gathered information.  "Thank you.  You all have my gratitude."

May blushed a little, shook herself, and skipped to Johnny's side.  "You said before you were here to wait for Zepp to pass over," the latter remarked.

Ky nodded, drawing himself out of his own brief thoughts.  "Yes, that's right.  Whether or not Arthur Galleon is involved, the people of Zepp are experts with this kind of machinery.  If nothing else they may know of some weakness the robots have, or what channels the parts to make them would have gone through."

"Well, it's still a few days away, probably.  We might as well do some poking around before then."

Ky frowned thoughtfully.  "You have some idea?"

May grinned excitedly as Johnny answered, "Rome, of course!  No place better for finding information, don't you think?"

"You mean information for criminals," Ky murmured, his brow furrowing in clear distaste of the idea.  

"Then it's a good thing we're after criminals, isn't it?" he returned, readjusting his hat.  "It's good for us anyway, and we can be there by tomorrow.  Does that sound like a plan to you?"

"I suppose it does."  Ky took in a deep breath, reaffirming his confidence as he faced his new companions.  "All right.  To Rome, then."


	5. Chapter 4

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Note:  I usually don't like giving stuff away, but since people are wondering I can at least assure you that this fic will not have any  Sol x Ky material.  Not that I'm necessarily anti-Sol x Ky, I just think their relationship in the game is a lot more interesting than any fan-created notion of unrequited love, and I hope that'll come across in the later chapters of this fic ^^

So yeah, this story is Ky/Testament.  Though you probably could have figured that out by the end of this chapter anyway… ^.^

Also, this chapter hasn't officially been checked over by my beta yet, but considering I just finished writing chapter 10 and have only posted up through 3…I'm a little antsy ^^.

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 4

Bridget started his day the same as always: at the first sign of light streaming through the porthole in front of him.  He always slept on his right side so that he would be able to catch the sun as soon as it peeked over the clouds.  It filled him with energy as he rubbed at his eyes and jumped lightly to the floor.  A quick glance at the bottom bunk showed him that Testament was still asleep; adorably so, in Bridget's opinion, flopped on his stomach with the blankets drawn up to his ears.  When looking at him like that, it was hard to believe any of the mixed stories about Testament he'd heard from the crew.  Grinning, Bridget changed out of his long pajamas before crouching in front of the slumbering Gear.

"Te~stament," he sang, suppressing giggles, as he tickled Testament's nose with a lock of his hair.  "Wakie wakie."

Testament's face twitched, but he didn't sneeze as Bridget had hoped he would.  Instead his hand snapped out without warning to fasten around the younger boy's wrist.  It hurt, but he managed not to wince as Testament's eyelids slid open.  "What do you want?" he muttered sleepily.

Bridget twisted his hand slightly, and was quickly released.  "It's morning," he informed his roommate cheerily.  He never did get a warm reception for his early morning services, but his tenacity was unwavering—Testament would grow to like him, eventually.  "You should be up.  It's a big day today."

Testament grunted, slipping his hand back under the blankets as he edged away.  "I'll get up when I'm ready."

"Okay."  Undaunted, Bridget popped up on his feet again and trotted to the door.  "See ya at breakfast!" he called as he left.  

Even this early the Jellyfish Pirate Ship was bustling with activity; the night crew was running about, finishing their duties before slipping off to bed, while their replacements woke each other and hurried to breakfast.  Bridget greeted everyone he met on his way through the corridors; not even a month into his time here and he'd learned all their names, to their delight.  As one of only two regular men on the ship he had been the focus of a lot of attention when first coming aboard.  Now, that curiosity had worn off thanks to Testament and Ky joining them, but he still had a lot of fans in the female crew.  It was a good sign that his progression towards manliness was going well.

First stop was the galley, where Bridget reminded the ship's cook Leap that now that Ky was awake, he deserved a special breakfast with lots of healing nutrition.  What that entailed he didn't know, but he trusted her to take care of it.  Next he visited the bridge to check in with Johnny for any assignments he might have had for him.  

"We ran into a storm last night," Johnny told him, jotting some notes on a piece of paper.  "We had to swing east to stay out of it—no problems, but it means we won't be in Rome until late in the afternoon.  Can I count on you to help gather supplies when we get there?"

"Aye aye, sir!" Bridget chirped, saluting at strict attention.  "In the meantime, I told Ky I'd help him move into his new room.  Is that acceptable?"

Amused by the boy's enthusiasm, Johnny nodded.  "Take good care of him."

"Sir, yes, sir!"  If Bridget had at all resembled a male sailor during his short briefing, it was spoiled by his childish grin as he skipped away from the bridge once more on light feet.

Ky, thankfully, had a better response to Bridget's hair-waking technique.  His face screwed up boyishly before surrendering a quite sneeze.  "Bridget…?"  He yawned and carefully stretched his weary limbs.  "Good morning."

"Good morning," Bridget replied happily, already beginning to tug the blankets off him.  "Do you feel all right?  I thought I'd take you down to breakfast before we get you settled in your new room—move you around a little."

"That sounds good," Ky agreed.  He looked just as eager to be up and about, even if his body wasn't cooperating as well as it could have been.  It took something of a struggle, but a few minutes later he was on his feet, dressed in fresh white pajamas.  They were soft and comfortable but much too big for him—they hung comically off his shoulders, covering his hands and heels.

"I feel like a child," he confessed.

"You look like one," Bridget replied with a laugh.  "It's because you're so skinny—but it's cute on you."  He reached up to fix Ky's hair, actually making it appear more tousled than it already was.  "The girls love it when I walk around like this.  You want them to like you, don't you?"

"Well…they are criminals …."

Bridget made a face at him.  "If you're going to stay with us for a while, you're gonna have to stop thinking like that," he admonished lightly, beginning to lead him towards the door.  Ky was still a little unsteady so he allowed him to lean on his elbow as he chattered on about the ship.  "This place is really great.  We all have a great time, and everyone pitches in to do their jobs.  Usually I work down in the engine room, 'cause they need strong people—man's work, you know—but they said it was okay for me to look after you for a while."

"I see."  

Bridget snuck a quick glance up at him, smiling happily.  Ky was looking even better this morning, which he took as something of a personal accomplishment.  He and Dizzy had been mostly responsible for the man's care the four days of his being unconscious, keeping his fever down while changing his dressings and cleaning his wounds.  He'd taken it seriously, and the results were enough to make him almost giddy with pride.  Ky was all right, and despite his lingering injuries even more gracious and noble than Bridget had expected.  He was enjoying the change, after having spent his time sharing a bunk with Testament who was always so dark and brooding.

Bridget ducked his head slightly, blushing, when Ky looked down at him.  Though he had dealt with other police officers in the past concerning his bounties, until now he hadn't met any quite as impressive.  It filled him with even greater motivation to become a man like that someday.

*****

Ky glanced about curiously as he was led down the corridors toward what he assumed was the galley.  Bridget prattled on the entire way, but he was only partially listening.  His sleep the night before had been restless; he tossed uncomfortably when he dozed, and in his dreams the faint images from his memories pursued him, preventing him from feeling at all revitalized.  Still, he didn't want to disappoint Bridget, as the boy seemed so intent on his recovery.  He kept his posture straight as they walked, his face serene despite the tiny tremors of pain in his yet-healing flesh.  

He was, however, by now somewhat accustomed to the familiar sting of burns crossing his skin.  He even imagined that his body was becoming used to it.  With the sensation came old memories, and he had to fight to keep his expression carefully even.  Again his mind was drawn to Sol, where he might have been and what he was doing.  It was almost too much to think he might have seen the report of Ky's disappearance, or that he would care.  However, if the man was targeting the Postwar Administration Bureau, as he had intimated in their last encounter, their paths may yet cross—and soon.  It was a possibility that made something in the back of his skull tighten as if in preparation of a fight.

Ky was so lost in his reprieve that he barely noticed whey they reached the galley.  It was Bridget's cheerful declaration that alerted him.  "Here we are!  I told them to make something special today, just for you."

"You didn't have to do that," Ky replied, but he was smiling lightly as Bridget led him inside.  "I am already in debt to everyone, considering that under different circumstances I would be trying to arrest them…."

Ky trailed off when he was finally able to take in the scene before him.  The galley was almost obnoxiously alive; there were girls everywhere, bantering back and forth, now and again high-pitched laughter rising over the morning commotion.  Though there were several older teenagers among them, many appeared much younger than Ky had expected to see there.  Even if the Jellyfish Pirates were famous for their youthful crew he noticed several that could not have been much older than twelve.  

What drew Ky's attention more than anything, however, was a group near the center of the long dining table.  Testament was seated among the lines of young women, looking ridiculously out of place in his black shirt and pants, his shoulders higher than most of the girls' heads.  He appeared to be calmly eating his meal despite the trio of pirates swarming over him.  They were giggling among themselves as they spread out locks of his thick black hair, combing it with pink and blue brushes.  The youngest of the three appeared to be braiding a strand of hair close to his right ear, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as if dedicating herself to her task with great concentration.  It was an absurdly heart-warming image: the way Testament continued on with his meal despite their treatment; the affection with which his attendants smoothed and untangled his hair.  And to Ky's even greater shock he could have sworn that the Gear, just before lifting another spoonful of oatmeal to his lips, smiled faintly to himself.

All at once the dining room took notice of the officer, and a frenzied cheer rose among the girls as they offered their greetings and made room for him at the table.  As they ushered him inside he caught a few of the older ones straightening their outfits and hair.  Feeling a little dazed, Ky took a seat at the table with Bridget just beside, only once he was settled realizing he was just across from Testament.  The Gear offered him only a glance before returning to his meal.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Kiske?" one—or maybe a few—of the girls asked as several plates were pushed in front of him.  "I hope you're hungry."

"We made waffles—waffles are Swedish, aren't they?  We heard you were Swedish."

"Are you going to arrest us?"

"Are you all okay now?"

Someone poked him in the back, and Ky clenched his teeth against a wince of pain.  Thankfully, Bridget quickly shoed the offending child away.  "Thank you all, for your concern," Ky told them, and the girls abruptly hushed to hear him.  It was almost intimidating.  "I am originally from France, not Sweden.  But…I do like waffles."

He would have mentioned that he wasn't sure waffles were originally either Swedish or French, but the girls already seemed delighted with his response, and he thought it best not to interrupt them.  Moreover, he quickly found it more important to keep them from smothering his breakfast in all manner of sauces and jams.  Eventually they calmed, though still he was the center of attention throughout his meal.

As Ky ate, he couldn't help but raise his eyes to Testament once more.  The Gear was eating his breakfast calmly, as if having paid no notice to the commotion around.  There was no trace of the smile Ky had thought he'd seen; he began to wonder if he had imagined it altogether.  But there was no mistaking that Testament looked content, despite the people touching and prodding him, and Ky watched his serene expression with almost wonder.

Testament leaned back suddenly, untangling the young hands from him as he shook his head.  The girls groaned in dismay as his hair was tossed once more into a mess around his face.  "Testament!" they declared in unison, childish faces twisting in pouts.

"It's all messed up."

"Now we have to do it all over again," the eldest chided.

Testament lowered his head slightly, his now tousled hair hiding from everyone but the man across from him another tiny smile.  "Sorry."

With muttered complaints the three returned to their work, gathering some attention from the others as well as they clucked over Testament's poor manners.  Ky lowered his head slightly, and finished his own meal in silence.

Too many waffles later, Bridget escorted Ky to the room he would be occupying for the duration of his stay.  Bridget had selected a low bunk across from what he later learned was Testament's; clean sheets had already been laid, and flasks of fresh water were within easy reach.  There was also some space at the back of the room with a table, chairs, and bench--enough that Ky would be able to move around at least.  Altogether he was pleased, as it would allow him to rest and recover his strength equally.  For now he was content to relax at the table, stretching his legs to work some strength back into them as he looked over the information he and Bridget had gathered the day before.

Bridget excused himself soon after, claiming he had to meet with May to prepare for when they landed in Rome.  Ky was grateful for the peace left in his wake; though he appreciated the high spirits of the crew, it had been some time since he'd been around so many children.  It was exhausting, and not the best environment for recuperation.  He was looking forward to a quiet morning on his own.

The opportunity was short-lived.  Ky had only just spread his papers out across the table when the door to the cabin was opened again, revealing the last person he was prepared to face.  He tried not to look uneasy as Testament slipped inside, didn't glance up when the footsteps paused and the door closed quietly behind him.  There was silence, thick and awkward, and then, "I won't disturb you for long."

Ky lifted his gaze cautiously as the floorboards creaked beneath Testament's boots.  The Gear was moving past him, to a small circular mirror mounted on the wall.  It was then that Ky at last noticed the state of Testament's hair: it was a mess, arranged in any number of half-formed ponytails, sloppy braids, and loose knots.  Had it been anyone else, Ky would have laughed good-naturedly at the antics of the girls.  But this was Testament standing across from him, trying to loosen the complicated arrangements covering his skull—a Gear with blood on his hands—and he had no idea how he should respond to it.

Ky lowered his head once more, trying to return to his work and put the matter out of his mind; but when Testament shook his head suddenly, hair making a soft swish in the silent room, he had to look back.  He licked his lips, idly fingering the silver cross necklace beneath his shirt as if it would grant him strength.  "They…seem pretty fond of you," he remarked, though he didn't really expect to find any answers for himself.

Testament, busy unraveling a long braid near the back of his head, didn't glance back.  "They're little girls," he replied evenly.  "They'll look up to anyone.  You've seen how they idolize their captain."

Ky frowned slightly.  "Do you mean May, or Johnny?"

"Whichever."

"Still, to let them do all that…."  Ky's fingers curled into fists.  "I thought you hated humans."

He should have known better than to press the issue; it was only going to make Testament defensive, or worse.  He had no intention of disturbing the peace on this ship, especially if Testament was somehow contributing to it.  It was his own memories, however, that prevented him from remaining still, maybe even his instincts.  He hated to think that his prejudice would resurface at a time like this, but someone like Testament, a Gear and murderer, should not have been able to sit so calmly among innocents.

Testament didn't respond at first, though his hands did still in their work.  After a moment he resumed clearing his hair of obstructions.  "I thought you hated Gears," he replied in kind.

Ky pursed his lips—this was not going to end well.  "I never hated Dizzy," he said carefully.  "And…right now I'm finding it difficult to hate someone who saved my life."

"And 'right now' I'm finding it difficult to hate innocent children."  Testament's eyes flickered to him through the mirror.  "Let's just leave it at that."

Of course, Ky had no intention of doing so.  His stomach was twisting nauseously, though he couldn't be sure if it was in disgust for his present company or for himself.  There had been a time in his life when he would have rather died alone in the rain than accept Testament's assistance; would, even now, risk his freshly healed life to destroy the creature whose eyes were focused seriously on his.  He could still feel shadows of that person inside him, lingering in his mind and clouding his judgment.  "I suppose that means…you still hate me, and the rest of us…?"

The Gear snorted bitterly.  "That would certainly make it easier on you, wouldn't it?"

"I…."  Ky paused, regretting his choice of words again.  But he would not be made out as the only guilty one here.  "I'm sure you can understand that my concerns are not ill-founded."

"And neither are mine," Testament retorted, turning to face him properly at last.  His red irises seemed to gleam more brightly in the dim light.  "I have every right to hate humans—they created me to be hunted and despised.  Hate me, if you want, but don't you dare think yourself justified."

Ky sat up taller in his chair despite the strain it put on his back.  "One man was responsible for the creation of Gears," he said firmly.  In this matter especially he could not back down.  "And the rest of humanity suffered for it.  We had nothing to do with your creation and yet we were slaughtered; is it our fault if we were raised fearing you?"

Testament's eyes thinned, but he was unable to counter Ky's logic immediately.   They seemed to have argued to a standstill; both sides blamed, both sides innocent.  When the Gear spoke again his voice was considerably lower.  "There was not only one man responsible."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…."  Testament glanced away, his fists tensing faintly at his sides.  "That one man didn't make me.  It was your people—the Bureau that betrayed you.  We are both their victims now."

"Testament…."  Ky was at a loss for words.  Before, he might have protested, as the Bureau had always appeared more interested in anti-Gear weapons, not Gears themselves.  Now, he could not claim to believe that with certainty.  Whatever Testament had witnessed in the rain that night may be proof enough that they were operating differently than in the past.

He closed his eyes.  "I…don't hate you," he said quietly, his words measured and sincere.  He felt Testament's gaze slide back to him but he didn't look up.  "When we met in the tournament over a year ago you were under the influence of Justice.  When we fought in the forest you were merely protecting Dizzy, with good reason.  Just recently you saved my life.  So…until I find evidence that you mean to do harm against innocents, I have no reason to hate you."

Silence followed for nearly half a minute, and then Testament shifted his weight slightly, replying, "I don't hate you, either."

Ky sighed, more relieved than he thought he would be from hearing those words.  The ill ease in his stomach dissipated at last as he nodded to himself.  This was progress—the kind of resolution he had been hoping for—and he was proud of them both for it.  He would have said more, something perhaps encouraging or insightful, but Testament was suddenly next to him, one palm pressed to the table as he leaned over it.  Ky pressed his lips and fought the urge to lean back.

"What is this?" Testament asked, indicating the papers strewn across the table with a nod of his head.

"Um…something Bridget and I were working on," Ky answered, arranging them a bit more neatly on the table.  He glanced briefly at Testament, and his eyes were drawn to a lock of the Gear's hair that hadn't yet been straightened.  It appeared to be the last remnants of a braid.  "It's a list of names recovered from that robot."

"Trying to find a pattern?" Testament assumed, nodding thoughtfully as he scanned the lists.

"Yes.  Hopefully we'll be able to figure out exactly what the Bureau wants from us."  Ky's lips pursed as his gaze returned to Testament.  He reached out almost cautiously to slip his fingers through the locks.  Testament jerked his head back, fixing him with a pointed glare.

"You missed one," Ky explained quietly.

Testament's eyes thinned, and he passed a hand self-consciously through his hair to make sure it was straightened this time.  "Anyway," he prompted.

"Anyway," Ky quickly continued, embarrassed, "we were able to find a few patterns.  Most of the names on the list of people meant to be apprehended are Japanese.  Some others are practitioners of Japanese fighting styles.  A few, however, seem completely unrelated.  Such as Millia Rage."  Ky rested his chin on the back of his palm.  "Her bounty should have been cleared by now, and I can't imagine what they would want with a former member of the Assassin's Guild.  Unless she has some knowledge of the organization they want suppressed."

"Or just her fighting skill," Testament pointed out.  "Her strength comes from the Forbidden Beast she carries, which was originally developed as an anti-Gear weapon."

"True.  Though by that explanation shouldn't they be looking for Zato-1 as well?"

"If he's even still alive."

Ky nodded vaguely.  "Then there's Johnny," he continued.  "Other than being a substantial pirate, he doesn't seem to have any outstanding offenses—nothing remarkable enough that the Bureau would want him killed."

Testament was silent a moment, considering his words as if they held some significance for him.  "What about me?" he asked guardedly.  "Am I in there?"

Ky flipped through the papers.  "There was something strange, when we asked it about you," he admitted.  "And Sol, as well.  The robot said that, according it its orders, neither of you were to be approached.  Only that the Bureau was to be notified of your whereabouts, and to await reinforcements."

Testament snorted quietly, the closest to sounding amused as he ever did.  "I wonder if that means they thought normal robots couldn't handle us."

Though Ky was not usually susceptible to something as base as jealousy, he couldn't help but be somewhat perturbed.  "Sol, at least, I can understand," he murmured.  "But I've defeated you before, and they didn't mention anything like that about me."

The Gear cocked an eye at him, and for a moment Ky was worried that he might be offended, but he moved past the issue quickly.  "And Dizzy?"

"They have no orders regarding her, apparently."

"I see."  Testament straightened, trying to be inconspicuous as he checked his reflection in the mirror.  "It's not much to go on, is it?  You might have better luck looking for the origin of the robots, rather than their intent."

"Maybe…."  Ky watched, a little subdued, as Testament moved away once more.  Though it seemed they had reached a truce he wasn't sure how he was expected to react to him from now on.  He felt as if he should say something, to be certain that this bizarre encounter had even taken place.  Just as his lips parted to speak, however, Testament turned abruptly to fix him with an even stare.

"June told me to tell you that she would be coming by soon," he said.  "If you're going to be moving around more you'll need to get your wounds cleaned and your bandages changed."

It wasn't anything like what Ky had been expecting to hear, and he only managed to nod blankly.  "Um…yes, of course.  Thank you."

Testament nodded back, and before Ky could think of what he'd wanted to say, he had slipped outside the room once more.

---

When Dr. Leona Mariot was called over by one of her technicians to receive a call, she wasn't surprised by the low, gravely tone of the voice she was met with.  She was relieved, even—several days had passed since the report had reached her of the incident in Genoa, and even if the man's greeting was less than hospitable it put all her fears to rest.  

"Mariot.  Give me your report."

She waved the technician away, unconsciously straightening the front of her dark suit coat.  "We have been operating smoothly and without incident since your departure."  Her response, as always, was clear, rehearsed, and to the point.  "Another thirteen units were cleared for active duty this morning, and there are currently seventeen undergoing Final Phase programming."

"Good.  We'll need them as soon as possible.  We've suffered massive causalities—I've already sent a unit with the report."

Leona nodded faintly, though she would have appreciated a better explanation.  But she dared not question the man, especially when he was speaking so quickly, a clear sign of the agitation he was famous for.  "All thirty units will be deployed before nightfall, along with the extra dozen we predict to be ready by then," she promised.  "Fully armed and operational, as always.  Though we've updated their parameters."

"I see.  Then he's arrived."

"Yes."  Leona wandered across the large chamber she had been working in before the call, the tap of her heels echoing hollowly from the dull metal floor.  Half a dozen technicians were buzzing around her, drifting from consol to consol, reading off and imputing new data.  She joined a pair of them at the far end of the chamber where a long, metal, slab-like table bore the fruits of their latest labor.  "We lost three units earlier this morning when he recovered from the effects of our drugs too quickly," she reported, eyes skimming over the man imprisoned there.  "Since doubling the dosage he's given us no problems.  And don't worry," she quickly added.  "Your test results won't be affected.  He'll just sleep here until you return."

"There's been a slight change of plans," her superior on the other end said abruptly.  She could just imagine his dark eyes narrowing to match his tone.  "I was unable to dispose of Officer Kiske in Genoa.  Someone else interfered.  He'll have to be dealt with before we move on to the next phase of the project."

"I see."  Though it wasn't promising news, Leona had expected as much.  The man may have been a genius in his own right, but even he had failed to realize it was still far too early to be challenging an enemy as formidable as Ky Kiske.  She made no further comment.  "Where would you like the new units deployed to, Sir?"

"Rome.  I'll be there myself soon.  And be careful—we've lost an unusual amount of units in the last seven days.  Someone may be closing in on your location."

"Understood."  There was any number of people who could be responsible, and none of the possibilities were promising.  Though operational, with so many of their "children" being put so quickly on active duty as per their superiors' orders, there were very few left to guard the factory.  "I wish you luck as well, sir."

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and after a long moment the man gruffly replied, "Don't be ridiculous."  And the line was cut.

Leona sighed quietly, slipping the device into the hand of a waiting technician as she turned back to her newest subject.  "It's no wonder he gave us trouble, really," she said thoughtfully, drawing her fingertips over the curve of a sculpted bicep.  "Though he's not even native Japanese.  What good can he do us at this stage?"

"Ma'am?"  One of the lab-coated men on her right watched her curiously.  "We can begin any time."

"Yes, of course."  Leona snorted quietly, ruffling the youth's pale hair.  "Let's see what this boy can do for us."


	6. Chapter 5

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

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**Culmination**

Chapter 5

Several hours later, Ky was holding his breath behind tightly clenched teeth as the city of Rome rose into view along the southern horizon.  It was as he remembered; a charred, blackened landscape surrounding the shells of even darker buildings.  Already he was recalling why he had been against the idea of coming here; this city held memories for him, very few of which pleasant, and it pained him to see the deplorable state it had been reduced to.

"Pretty shabby, isn't it?" Bridget remarked next to him.  

"It…wasn't always that way."

They had gathered on the ship's bridge once Rome came in sight—by now it was deep into the afternoon, though the sky had not yet begun to soften its shade.  They were all excitable, peering at the fallen city as it drew nearer.  None of them regarded it with the same feeling of dread that Ky felt seeping into his chest.  Most likely because none of them knew its history as intimately as him.

Rome had once been a prosperous city, one of the dwindling numbers of large human settlements scattered across the globe.  Even up until the last years of the war it was a center for trade and civilization, harboring a population over a million strong and a modest military power.  All that had ended in the span of several hours.  The Gears that came from the north laid waste to the centuries-old metropolis, decimating its populace and leaving only rubble.  And Ky had been there.  He had tasted the smoke from its burning residences, had watched the stone walls crumble into poisoned ash.  He'd lost comrades to the dying city, and even now many of their bodies still rested beneath the earth here, unnamed though not forgotten.

The fact that Rome was currently inhabited did nothing to soften the bitterness of his memories.  In the years of reconstruction after the Crusades, Rome had grown strong once more in the hollowed shells of stone.  Airships came in and out of its ports daily with goods from around the world, nearly as impressive as before the tragic attack.  However, the new Rome's current citizenry was far less virtuous than that of its predecessor.  The fallen buildings and ancient structures had made the city something of a maze, and a perfect breeding ground for all manner of murderers, smugglers, and thieves.  It had always been Ky's intention to take the city by full force and make way for a community more suitable to Rome's long lineage, but so far his superiors had no interest in offering their support to such an undertaking.  The whole world was still recovering; there simply wasn't the necessary time or manpower.

"Will ya look at it?" Johnny said almost admirably, his lips curled in a slight smirk.  "Not even the Assassin's Guild dares step in a place like this."

"They don't?" Dizzy questioned curiously.

"The Guild's nothing but a collection of dogs.  They know better than to mess with real criminals."

"I don't know what you intend to learn here," Ky said evenly, shifting his weight a little against Bridget's arm.  "With how powerful the Bureau is, it doesn't make sense for them to associate themselves with common criminals."

Johnny crossed his arms, still grinning.  "Maybe not.  But half the people they're looking for are criminals—every outlaw ends up in Rome eventually.  All they have to do is sit by and pick them off one by one."  He shrugged.  "Besides, if any of those robots have been anywhere near here, the whole city will know about it.  We're bound to pick up information."

"And we need the supplies, anyway," May added.

"You're going down there?" Ky asked, somewhat alarmed.  He remembered then that Bridget had mentioned earlier he would be assisting the collection of supplies as well—he didn't like the idea of children venturing anywhere near the city.

"That's right!" May chirped.  "We get good prices."

"You police might not know about it, but the outer edge of the city is actually pretty peaceful," Johnny explained.  "It's the best place for acquiring goods, especially for an airship like this.  Don't make that face—we can take care of ourselves."

Ky wasn't entirely convinced, but he nodded slightly.  "When will we depart?"

"Ah, hold on.  No one said you were going with us."

The officer straightened, turning to face Johnny squarely—and not lose his balance at the same time.  "This is my investigation," he said pointedly.  "Not only can I not impose on you to do my job for me, but I want to be there to confirm the information for myself."  This mission was far too important to risk any misinterpretation of the facts.

"Are you gonna go down like that?" May shot back, resting her hands on her hips.  "You can barely walk!"

"I can manage well enough."

Standing off to the side of the group, Testament snorted quietly, drawing their attention.  "And how will it look when the head of the police, missing for almost a weak and accused of shirking duties, appears in Rome among pirates?"  He tilted his chin up a little.  "Not that it'd be safe for a police officer entering Rome under any circumstances.  Every man and woman in that city will know your face."

"But still…"  Ky pursed his lips thin, hoping to clearly convey his unwillingness to back down on the issue.  "I must know for myself."

Bridget piped up suddenly from his side.  "You'll have to go in disguise."

Everyone turned to stare at him, and the boy straightened.  "Hey, what?  It's a good idea!  We could dress him up really well—he's so handsome, no one would believe he's really a police officer."

May rolled her eyes.  "Hmph—handsome?  You can't even say that with Johnny standing right here."

Dizzy giggled, and Johnny made a bemused face before replying himself.  "If we can get him to dirty himself up a bit, it might work," he said. "I'd be curious to see that, at least."

Ky lowered his head a bit, irritated that all of them seemed to have thought this through more carefully than him.  "If you think it best, I have no qualms in disguising myself for the purpose of investigation.  Though…I hope you have nothing too outlandish in mind."  He turned a significant eye on Bridget, who blushed.

"Don't worry," he assured.  "I'll be good."

"Anyway, we're not going anywhere near the inner city tonight," Johnny told them, bringing the focus of the discussion back to him.  "Not even I am reckless enough to challenge the streets of Rome in the dark."  When it looked like Ky might protest he continued anyway.  "We'll take the rest of the day to gather supplies and fix the ship up after the storms we've been getting.  That way Ky can rest up, and maybe we'll even get around to finding something he can wear that fits him."

Ky flushed a little in embarrassment; he was still wearing the oversized pajamas that Bridget had selected for him earlier that morning.  "I would appreciate it."

"All right, then," May declared suddenly, gathering herself up.  "We're landing in less than an hour, so everybody better be ready.  Johnny and I are going into Rome to—"

"And me," Bridget interrupted happily.

May shot him a glare.  "And Bridget," she amended, "to get supplies.  Ky stays in bed or no field trip tomorrow.  Testament and Dizzy guard the ship.  Got it?"  Though neither Ky nor Testament seemed entirely satisfied with their assigned duties she was speaking again before either could think to protest.  "Good.  Now everyone off the bridge—I've got a ship to run, here."

As everyone filed off the bridge Ky turned briefly to Bridget, giving his elbow a tug.  "Bridget.  You won't pick anything…odd…for me, will you?" he asked with some concern.  He spent so much time in his uniform he wasn't used to wearing much else, and his mind was conjuring all sorts of bizarre attire the boy might select for him to wear.  He eyed Bridget's sailor suit especially with apprehension.

"Oh, don't worry," Bridget assured happily as he led them back in the direction of the room they shared.  Out of the corner of his eye Ky caught a glimpse of Testament, who had started to turn down the same way but paused when he realized the two blondes had beat him to it.  He disappeared down another corridor, and Ky frowned slightly to himself.

"It'll be really good," Bridget continued, having not noticed the Gear.  "Something cool, like Johnny, but not too gaudy.  We should get you some dye for your hair, too, just in case."

"Dye?" Ky echoed, his attention drawn back in full.  He didn't like the sound of that at all.  "Let's try to keep it simple…."

"Too simple and you'll get caught.  Just leave it to me—you'll be perfect."  Bridget giggled, which did nothing to reassure the officer as they went.

---

True to his word, no more than two hours later Bridget was digging through a long rack of various black-leather clothing articles.  None of them seemed to be just right, but he was optimistic, as could be gathered from his light-hearted humming.  Already impatient with his shopping adventure, May was quick to scold him.  "He's not exactly a fan of that sort of thing," she pointed out from the sidelines, arms crossed.  "What makes you think he'll wear anything like that?"

"It's black leather," Bridget replied as he delved deeper, pushing several pairs of pants and a few corsets out of his way.  "It's manly."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."  Bridget paused to inspect another pair of pants, but it had too many straps—not good for a fighter like Ky.  "Testament wears black leather."

May turned her nose up disdainfully.  "Testament is _not_ manly."

"Johnny wears black leather."

"That's…."  May's cheeks burned bright red as she glared at him.  "Ooh, forget you.  Just pick something already and come on—Johnny's waiting for us."  With a snort she spun on her heel, leaving Bridget behind in the shop, which was precisely what he'd been hoping for all along.

"Much better," he concluded as he returned to his search.  "She was ruining the atmosphere."

Rome had turned out to be quite different than Bridget had imagined.  The city outskirts they were traversing now were nothing like the labyrinthine corridors and darkened alleys from his brain's excited predictions; everything was brightly lit, being still fairly early in the evening, the shops seemed well tended, and all the people he'd met were pleasant enough.  A few looked like they might have been criminals, but to Bridget that was nothing new.  He even recognized a few bounty hunters, and though his greetings usually went without return that small fact did nothing to curb his enthusiasm.  Though the city was obviously still not in the best of shape, as many of the buildings were lying on their sides or at odd angles, it seemed that its new populace had learned to adapt around the bizarre scenery.  All in all, it was a lively town and Bridget was enjoying himself greatly.

The task of hunting up Ky a new outfit merely added to the boy's mirth; it was proving to be a particular challenge.   He'd spent some of his time earlier studying the outfit they'd found Ky in, though because of the fight it wasn't in any reasonable shape.  He would have to do the best he could to decide what kind of clothing would be best for relaxing and fighting in.  

Once Bridget had finished in that particular shop he paid for his purchases and hopped lightly out into the street.  From there, it was easy to spot Johnny and May further down the row of establishments; the former seemed to be haggling with the owner of a machine shop.  Bridget began to follow, but paused when his gaze caught on a man opposite his two fellows.  The stranger was dressed in thick, ragged cloaks, as if he might have been wearing some other attire beneath them, and a hood had been pulled up to disguise his face from any casual passer-by.  In Rome, a man of such suspicious appearance was commonplace, and normally Bridget wouldn't have given him a second glance.  But the man was staring in the direction of Johnny and May, judging by the direction of his hooded face.  Something shifted beneath the mass of coarse fabric.

Bridget trotted quickly forward, placing himself between the stranger and his pirate companions.  "Hey you two," he declared loudly, gathering a few stares from the people around.  "I finished with the leather.  What are you up to?"

"Will you cut it out?" May snapped at him, doing her best to prevent him from ruining Johnny's business transaction.  "We're busy here—why don't you go…act like a girl somewhere."

"Well actually…."  Bridget glanced over his shoulder carefully, but already the stranger he'd noted was turning away, continuing down the street.  He breathed a quiet sigh.  "…I think I will," he finished, snapping his attention back to May.  "I need to buy some new wire for my yo-yos, after all."

May rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, that is pretty girly."

"Better than an anchor," Bridget replied lightly, stepping back quickly to avoid a smack to the head.  With a laugh he turned to continue down the street ahead of them.  "I'll find you later!"  May replied by sticking out her tongue.

Bridget grinned, but by the time he had distanced himself from May and Johnny his expression sobered.  He could still see the stranger moving along the shops ahead of him, pausing at a few stands just to make it look as if he were showing interest.  Again, not necessarily suspicious behavior for an inhabitant of a city of criminals, but when the man turned slightly Bridget was clearly able to see a flash of richly toned skin and round, dark eyes.

"I wonder if that's…."  Bridget licked his lips, falling into step several meters behind the man.  He wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, but there was something about the stranger that was straining his senses, and as a bounty hunter he had always trusted his instinct.  Forgetting for a while about his companions—and his shopping duties—he continued down the street in the man's wake.

--

Ky managed to wince only slightly as he unwrapped the bandages covering his hands.  By now the burns, having been meticulously cleaned and cared for by the crew medic, were now a stretch of healing scar tissue and remaining scabs.  His gloves had managed to absorb most of the shock from the electricity, as always, and his natural ability for controlling the magic had helped as well—he could move his fingers with ease, even if there was still a sting of pain that crawled through the limb when he did so.  It would still be a few more days before he'd be able to hold his sword, though even then he wasn't sure he'd be able to wield it with any efficiency.  And there was still his back to consider.  

All in all, he was not satisfied with his current recovery.  Even though it would still be a few days before Zepp came in range enough to attempt boarding, he was anxious to be combat-ready once more with so much already at stake.  The following morning he would venture into the interior of Rome, and he dared not meet those stone streets again without a sword at his hip he could be depended on to use.

Ky was awoken from his thoughts by a soft knock on the door, and though he was in no mood for company he sighed, and called, "Come in."

He had been expecting it to be June, checking up on him again, or even one of the crew members—a few had been around earlier to "check up" on him as well, which from what he could gather really meant teasing him about his pajamas and ruffling his hair.  He was surprised when he found it to be Dizzy's calm face staring at him from across the room.

"Mr. Kiske."  She stepped forward slowly, carrying a bowl with some bandages under one arm and a large thermos in the other.  "I…hope I'm not bothering you.  June is helping with some of the repairs around the ship, so she asked me to come look after you.  If…that's all right."

"No, it's…I mean yes."  Ky's jaw worked somewhat anxiously as she stepped further inside.  Even after all she had done for him there was still a part of him that shifted uneasily whenever she came too close.  He was ashamed of himself for it.  All the same he pushed back from the table a bit, welcoming her.  "Though I am feeling much better, thanks to everyone's support."

"I'm glad to hear it."  Dizzy strode forward, setting her things out on the table.  "June suggested that I change the bandages on your back," she explained as she emptied some of the thermos water into a shallow bowl.  "It's important that they stay clean to avoid infection."  She offered what was left in the thermos to him. "You should drink the rest of this.  Your body still needs the fluids.  At least…that's what June says."

"Yes, I know."  Though he wasn't proud to admit it, by now Ky had a very good idea about how to best treat burns.  He drank the water down obediently as Dizzy pulled a chair closer for herself.  He kept an eye trained on her as he finished, and set upon removing his shirt.  It wasn't that he didn't trust her—she had no reason to harm him—but he didn't like being so vulnerable in front of anyone, let alone a Gear of her power.

Ky sighed quietly as he at last set the fabric aside.  "Disgraceful," he murmured thoughtlessly.

Dizzy straightened, her eyes thinning somewhat with his remark.  "Mr. Kiske…?"

When he realized he'd spoken aloud he flushed in shame and embarrassment.  "Not you," he quickly assured.  "It's…me, I'm afraid."  He turned in his chair so that his back was to her.  "I'm sorry, you came here to help me and I'm being foolish."

Dizzy hesitated a moment before reaching out carefully, beginning to unwrap the layers of white gauze.  "It's all right," she replied softly.  "I understand."

"I…."  Ky sighed again.  "I know it's awful of me," he found himself continuing, even if Dizzy was one of the last people he should have been saying these things to.  "All this time I've been trying to convince myself that I'm not a vengeful person.  But I can't help…this feeling of uneasiness."

"Because I'm a Gear," Dizzy filled in needlessly, her hands slowing a bit in their work.  Her voice sounded solemn.  "You don't have to explain."

But Ky didn't want to accept that.  He had long since learned that not all Gears were evil; even now Dizzy was dressing his wounds, while his own people conspired against him.  Dizzy, whose life he'd almost taken for no other reason than her birth…and Testament, who despite the blood shed between them in the past had saved his life.  There should have been no reason left for animosity between them.  "I've been wrong," he said.  "About so many things.  You, and Testament…my own Order…."  He closed his eyes.  "I'm not pleased with this side of myself."

Dizzy was silent for a long moment again before responding; by now she had finished unwrapping the bandages, and she set them carefully aside as she dampened a small cloth to begin cleaning around the burns.  "If that's the case," she replied at last, "you should fix it."

Ky's lips curled in a thin smile.  "Yes, I suppose so."  He stretched his shoulders a bit, ignoring the sting—he liked the feeling of the cool water over his healing skin.  "At least Testament and I have reached something of a truce."

"Oh?"  This caught Dizzy's attention.  "You spoke with him?"

"Yes, a little earlier."  Though it hadn't been the most pleasant of exchanges, it had left him feeling more confident for when he next had to face the Gear.  "I'm not sure how much we were able to resolve, but for the moment we've agreed there's no reason for us to fight any longer."

"I see."  Dizzy re-wet her cloth and returned it to his back. "I'm glad.  I…was a little worried about him."

"About Testament?"  Ky glanced over his shoulder curiously, and was treated to an expression on Dizzy's face he hadn't expected; she was smiling, but her wide red eyes were downcast and solemnly thoughtful.  Twisting in the chair, however, put an unnecessary strain on his back, and he turned forward once more.  "He seems to be doing all right."

"He does," Dizzy agreed slowly, "but still, I wonder if he's really changed all that much."

"He was fine with the children this morning—I think this place must be good for him."

"I'm…not so sure about that."

Another silence passed between them as Ky contemplated the meaning of those words.  It was not his place to ask—whatever relationship Testament and Dizzy shared it wasn't for him to know.  But he could not deny that he was curious, and at last he worked up the courage to ask.  "Is there something wrong with him being here?"

"It's…not that, exactly," Dizzy tried to explain.  She continued to move the rag over his back, but by now they could both tell she wasn't paying much attention to aiding in his recovery.  "I'm glad I got to see him again.  But he can be so sensitive—he doesn't approve of Johnny using the girls for his piracy."  She sighed quietly.  "And he's still so protective of me.  I appreciate his concern, but in his mind the two of us are still so different from humans.  All I want is to be a part of this crew, and…it's difficult, when in his mind he's protecting me from them."

"I see."  Ky frowned, wishing there were some words of comfort he could share with her.  "Testament…I believe he has a good heart.  He does care deeply for you.  It is merely our pasts that binds us."

He could almost feel the nod of Dizzy's head.  "Yes, I think so, too.  It's just difficult, trying to know what I can say to him.  I've already done all I can to move on, but as long as Testament is still wary of humans…."  Her voice lowered.  "I feel that by trying to be more human myself, I might be somehow betraying him…."

"Dizzy…."  Ky turned around in his chair so that he could face her properly.  He had never expected to hear such words, such complex emotions, coming from the voice of a Gear—for that brief moment he was able to forget the origin of the girl sitting before him, and he reached out, setting his hands over hers.  "He wants you to be happy," he said quietly.  It was the one truth he was perfectly certain of.  "If that means your place is here, with these pirates, I'm sure he understands."

"Yes."  Dizzy smiled slightly as her hands curled tentatively over his.  "Yes, I…I hope so."

Ky smiled thinly himself, watching her to see if his words had helped.  Before he moved to draw his hands back, however, he paused to better feel the warmth of Dizzy's palms against his own.  He could sense the magic circulating beneath her skin, and it seemed to bestow a new sense of vitality into his hands, similar to the grip of his own Thunderseal.

Dizzy followed his gaze, and she straightened somewhat.  "Mr. Kiske, would it—"

"You can call my Ky," he interrupted gently.

She blinked, then smiled, nodding.  "Ky.  Could I…try something?  I think I may be able to help you."

Ky frowned thoughtfully, unsure as to her intentions, but there seemed to be no harm in it.  After all the vows he had made to strive to trust Dizzy and her kind with greater sincerity, he wasn't sure he could refuse.  The prospect of a faster recovery was greatly appreciated as well.  "Yes, please.  If you have some idea."

"Yes…."  Dizzy took one of Ky's hands in both of hers, drawing her fingertips across his open, scarred palm.  Her eyes fluttered in concentration; the officer gasped quietly as gentle warmth flooded into the limb, soothing the ache of his burns.  To his amazement, some of the scarred tissue seemed to melt away beneath Dizzy's touch, leaving a few patches of clear, unharmed skin.

"Dizzy…."  He shivered, realizing that what he'd felt had been the heat of her magic—a Gear's magic—passing through his flesh.

Dizzy looked up into his face to see his reaction.  "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, not at all."  Ky drew his hand back carefully, inspecting the suddenly healed tissue.  "That's…I didn't know Gears could do that."

"All Gears have a natural talent for healing," Dizzy explained, her cheeks a little flushed.  "And since we're able to project our magic when we attack, I thought…maybe we'd be able to project that healing magic, as well."  She ducked her head shyly.  "I've been practicing with it, here on the ship, so that I can be a better help to June and the rest of the crew."

"I see."  Ky curled his fingers, testing—they really did seem to have healed.  "That's…that's amazing, Dizzy," he said, truthfully awed.  It made something in his chest ache.  "That you can use your power in such a way…."

Dizzy smiled, clearly pleased by his praise.  "I can't do it very much," she admitted.  "I get tired out pretty easily.  But if you like, I could help your other hand, and maybe some of the pain in your back, before I finish bandaging it."

Ky nodded eagerly.  "Yes—yes, please.  I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."  Relieved, he felt no more apprehension in offering up his other hand to her care.  

---

He had only meant to return to the room for a moment; now that Bridget had left for the city he would be able to try on and examine the outfit prepared for him in peace.  But when Testament returned, the sound of a pair of familiar voices halted him before he could make his presence known.  And there he had stood, arms dangling at his sides and head slightly bowed, as he listened to the exchange within.  He was not yet sure what to make of all their talk—the remorse of Ky Kiske, the soft, sorrowful tone of his precious Dizzy.  The way they spoke of him with such contemplation and pity.  It nursed in him some deep, unnamed emotion, the effects of which never reached as far as his face.  Without a word or breath he turned, moving soundlessly away from the room so as to not attract any notice from the pair.

----

Bridget tailed the cloaked stranger for newly twenty minutes before discovering anything of interest—they were heading deeper into the city's interior.  He wasn't concerned yet.  As an experienced bounty hunter, and being remarkably cute, he'd always managed to sneak out of dangerous situations and places, and not even Rome herself held any fear for him.  He reminded himself of that a few times as they ducked down a side alley, and his quarry seemed to all but vanish.

"Man…."  Bridget pursed his lips in pout, scuffing at the ground with his toe.  "Lost him."  But then he was drawn by the sound of a voice from a nearby building, followed by the unmistakable whirl of gears from a machine.  Face lighting up once more he clutched his parcels to his chest and investigated, peeking through the broken glass of a dusty window.

The man was indeed there, still wrapped in his many cloaks, now surrounded by several hunched figures dressed in the same.  He couldn't see any of their faces.  As he watched, the stranger seated himself heavily at a table near the center of the small, broken-down room.

"He's here."  The man's voice was a low, harsh grumble, the sound of which made Bridget's flesh crawl.  "If the Jellyfish Pirates are here, he must be.  They were the only airship in range when we took Kiske down—they must have him."

The man reached up, tugging his hood to reveal a round, richly toned face and deep-set, obsidian eyes.  This time Bridget couldn't help a tiny sound of what might have been excitement—he'd found the man, the man with the dark eyes that Testament had spotted in the rain.  The man that had attacked and nearly killed Ky,.  But his momentary lapse cost him, and Bridget gasped again as one of the hooded figures turned sharply in his direction.  He caught sight of the glare of iridescent eyes before jerking away from the window.  They were Robo Kys, all of them, and Bridget turned to bolt from the alley in case he'd been spotted.

The sound of glass shattering chased him back out into the street; he glanced back only briefly, eyes widening as several of the cloaked robots tumbled out of the window and gave chase.  They were fast, and the first two were upon him long before he could put any speed into his run.  Their yellow eyes gleamed dangerously from beneath the thick hoods.

"Eek!  Stay away!"  Still gripping his bags in one hand Bridget yanked one of his yo-yos off his belt, swinging it a wide arch over his head.  Having not expected the attack the first of the robots caught the full force of spinning metal in the forehead, denting its cranium so that one of the glowing eyes popped grotesquely out of its socket.  But it kept coming, and Bridget ducked low, another jerk of the wire sweeping both robots off their feet.  His yo-yo snapped back into his hand as he was up and running again, another trio of mechanical Ky's only a few paces behind.


	7. Chapter 6

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

I'd like to give a big thanks to all the kind reviews.  I really appreciate it ^^.  If you have any questions, comments, or critiques to offer, I'm also eager to hear from people.  I'm also gonna try and post on Monday nights from now on, just to keep things rolling.  

Thanks again for your support!

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 6

"That looks like just about it," Johnny declared, setting the last crate down in the back of their small magic-powered jeep.  It was a relatively compact vehicle, barely seating four people, but there was just enough space to store most of the basic provisions they'd gathered during their shopping venture.  The rest—including new parts for the ship—he'd arranged to be delivered directly.  A quick glance at their purchases assured him that they had all they needed for now.

"There's only room left for one person to ride," May said with a frown, poking at the mound of supplies.

"You can drive it, then.  Bridget and I will walk back."  Johnny tilted his hat up, surveying the streets for any sign of their missing companion.  "I wonder where he could have gone off to…."

May shook her head stubbornly.  "Bridget can drive—I'll walk back with you."  When it didn't look as if Johnny were paying attention she set her hands on her hips.  "Johnny—"  She broke off suddenly when she saw his hand slide to the handle of his sword.

"Looks like he brought some friends along," Johnny said with a hint of a smirk.

The crowds along the street parted, making way for the sprinting teen and, apparently, his flock of pursuers.  Johnny only took a moment to confirm their identities—one of the cloaked figures had been freed of his hood, revealing the crude, metallic face of one of the robotic Ky-impersonators.  Bridget was running only just fast enough to keep ahead of them, being weighed down by the bags he carried.  They were closing fast.

"May—get going."  Johnny adjusted his sunglasses.  "You and Bridget get back to the ship."

"But Johnny—"

"Don't worry, there aren't that many of them.  Get going."  He offered her a brief smile before breaking out in a run, heading straight for Bridget and the charging machines.

"Johnny!"  When Bridget noticed his approach he grinned, looking intensely relieved.  "They're really annoying!"  One of the robots was nearly upon him, a shift in its cloaks indicating a weapon about to be brandished.

"_Get down_."  Johnny leapt at the pair; Bridget threw himself obediently to the ground, allowing him to easily sever the head of the closest robot in a flash of drawn steel.  He collided with another a moment later, sending them both tumbling across the dusty street—he rolled, on his feet a moment later as the robots each skidded to a halt.  Their brightly glowing eyes swiveled, accompanied by the quite whirl of machinery, as they turned their attention away from Bridget.

"JELLYFISH_ PIRATE_ JOHNNY," one of them reported.  

"ORDERS_ ARE_ TO_ TERMINATE_ UPON_ DISCOVERY."

"COMMENCING_ ATTACK."

Johnny's lip twisted.  "Fantastic."

Bridget, meanwhile, had already clamored to his feet and was reaching May with the jeep.  "Take this," he instructed, thrusting his bags into her chest.  She had to scramble to keep them from falling, and before she could utter some protest he'd already turned, slipping both yo-yos into his hands.  "Johnny!"

Johnny glanced up just as a sword blade swept inches from his face.  "Shit—"  He dodged backwards but the blasted things were fast, moving together like a swarm.  He was beginning to realize even from the short exchange why they had given Ky so much trouble.  "Bridget—take May and get out of here!"

"You'll need help!" Bridget shot back, charging headlong into the group of robots.  Fortunately they seemed to be focusing all their attention on Johnny for the moment, and he managed to strike one squarely in the back of the head.  It reeled, metallic skull dented, but a moment later it had turned on him with full force.  Bridget's smaller body and greater speed gave him just enough of an opening to dart out of the way of its counterattack.

"Damn pests—"  Johnny finished off one of the machines, but almost immediately afterwards another pair swept upon him.  The sword from one cut dangerously close—it wasn't until a moment later that he realized it had sliced cleanly through his sunglasses and drawn a thin scar across his temple.  But the attack had left the attacking robot open, and Johnny planted his feet, bringing his sword around in a wide arch that claimed both opponents' heads.

There was a clang of metal to his right, and Johnny whirled, expecting to find another Robo Ky.  He did; the robot was face down in the street, May's giant steel anchor embedded in its back.  May herself was just behind, her eyes bright and breath heaving.

"Don't think for a second," she huffed, "that I'd leave a crewman behind."

Johnny tilted his hat up, a grin stretching his lips.  "Yes, ma'am."

----

An hour later, the Jellyfish Pirate Ship was laden with new supplies, and Ky listened to Bridget's recounting of the town events in the room they shared.  He was stretched out on his stomach in bed, relaxing comfortably thanks to Dizzy's treatment earlier.  The news Bridget had to give him, however, was quickly working to dispel his ease.  "So he really is here—the man that Testament saw."

"I think it must be him," Bridget replied, seated atop his own bunk with bare feet swinging.  "He was with the robots, and his eyes were really dark."

"And he mentioned our fight in Genoa," Ky mused, his features working into a frown.  "I think you're right—that must be the man."

Bridget perked up suddenly.  "Johnny was pretty impressed, you know.  Said those robots were tough two at a time, let alone the army you took out by yourself.  You must be really amazing."

Ky smiled thinly.  "I suppose it must be easier for me to fight them, as it's my fighting style they've been programmed to imitate.  Johnny and I haven't fought often enough for him to be familiar with it."  He settled into the mattress.  "I'm glad, though, that you all were able to escape unharmed."

"Oh, it was nothing.  Between the three of us, they didn't stand a chance."  Bridget turned to his bunk, blowing out the lamp above him so that the only light in the room was the light from the city flickering through thick-glassed portholes.  "Where's Testament?  Isn't he coming to bed?"

"I wouldn't know," Ky admitted, curious himself.  He hadn't seen Testament at all since their briefing on the bridge that afternoon.  There was no point worrying about it, however, and so he tugged his sheets over his freshly bandaged shoulders, preparing for sleep.  "I'm sure he'll be back soon.  "Goodnight, Bridget."

"'Night Ky."

Though Ky had every intention of sleeping—the next day they would venture into Rome, and he would have to be fully prepared—his mind would not allow him to rest so easily.  The knowledge that his assassin was not only nearby, but also aware of his caretakers, was more than enough to disturb any attempt at slumber.  Combined with his earlier concerns over his order and this incident's mastermind, he was still very much awake when the door to their room slowly creaked open.  He didn't have to open his eyes or hear the man's voice to know it was Testament; he could almost sense the Gear's magic as he slipped into the room and removed his boots.

"Testament…?" Bridget's voice floated down from somewhere above in the dark.

Testament paused, but after only a short moment Ky could hear him moving about again, removing clothing.  "Yes, it's me," he replied quietly.  "Sorry to wake you."

"It's okay."  Curious, Ky opened his eyes.  He could make out only faint shapes from the dark: Bridget on his stomach, leaning over the edge of his bunk, as Testament slipped beneath the covers of his own bed.  "Where've ya been?"  
  


"Around.  Helping Johnny with supplies."

"Ah, okay."

Silence followed, and Ky was about to attempt sleep once again when Testament spoke.  "Is…Ky awake?"

Ky frowned, eyes snapping almost reflexively shut.  He wasn't sure why he didn't want them to know he was really awake, only…it sounded like Testament had something on his mind, and he knew the Gear wouldn't speak it if he knew Ky were listening.

"Don't think so," said Bridget.  "Is something up?"

"Not exactly."  Ky risked opening his eyes a little, catching a glimpse of Testament's profile.  He looked…quiet, and somehow old.  "When we're finished in Rome," Testament said evenly, "I'm going to leave this ship."

"What?"  Bridget's tone clearly echoed Ky's shock.  "You're leaving—but why?"

Testament didn't answer at once, making Bridget shift impatiently above him.  "I don't have any right to be here," he explained at last, still staring fixedly at the bunk above him, his voice calm.  "I'm not like the rest of you.  You all have a good life here—a peaceful life.  And I'm not sure that's something I can be satisfied with."

Ky bit his lip, remaining utterly motionless as he listened to the Gear's reasoning.  Something like that…couldn't be right.  Not after everything he had spoken with Dizzy about earlier…

The officer's eyes widened slightly, but he held his voice back as he realized; Testament must have overheard them.  Silently cursing his own carelessness he tightened his fingers in the sheets, wondering…if there was anything he could do.  If there was something he _should_ do.

It was then that he caught Bridget's eyes on him, and he held his breath, fearful that he'd be given away; surely Testament wouldn't be pleased to know he was being spied on.  But the boy only lowered his gaze, speaking to Testament.  "It…doesn't have anything to do with Mr. Kiske being with us, does it?"

"Ky?"  Testament's gaze flickered briefly to the man, confirming to himself that he was indeed asleep.  Ky did not look particularly peaceful, but he was still enough.  After a thoughtful moment Testament turned his eyes blindly upward once more.  "I don't think so."

"Why's that?"

"Because…I'm not sure what to make of him," Testament admitted.  "We've had our battles in the past, and now they've ended.  No, this has nothing to do with Ky."  Even if it was related to what he had overheard from the pair earlier, he could not say that he was so embittered by the man as to desire escaping from him.

Above, Bridget hummed thoughtfully.  "Then it must be Dizzy."

Testament frowned, but he could not refute that claim; he sighed, closing his eyes.  Normally, he would have never admitted these things to the other.  But Bridget had, since his arrival here, done everything in his power to make Testament feel welcomed, and he felt that he at least owed someone an explanation.  Maybe it would save him the trouble of speaking to Dizzy later on.

"Yes."  He shifted in bed, as if the thick covers were suddenly too uncomfortable for him.  "I'm glad to have seen her again.  But I do not belong here."  Already he could feel the quiet ache behind his ribs, the sensation of cold that had chased him through Genoa in the first place.  It was somewhat humbling.  "Dizzy has a good life here; she's happy.  And I…am merely a burden to her."

"I'm sure she doesn't think that way," Bridget was quick to interject, his tone somewhat more serious than it usually was, which he found somewhat baffling.  "She was really happy to see you, too."

"Maybe."  Testament was not nearly so optimistic, and his fingers curled stiffly against his stomach as he replayed Dizzy's words from earlier through his mind.  "She doesn't want me here," he concluded at last.  "It wouldn't be right of me to stay.  I know what she expects of me, and I simply cannot do that for her now.  I'll only distress her more if I remain."

Bridget shifted above him. "Testament…."  The tone of his voice was solemn, and again Testament frowned, having not expected such a show of sympathy.  "But then where are you gonna go?  Back to that forest place?"

"I…."  It was the one question Testament had not yet resolved in his own mind, forcing him to pause before responding.  In the end, however, he could not come up with a satisfactory answer to give. "I don't know," he confessed.  "The forest…it is too quiet there."  He had not even left the ship yet, and already he knew what would become of him if he were to return to that place.  He could feel it nestled in his gut like ice, harsh and burning.  "It isn't a home to me without Dizzy there.  It only feels cold…empty."

Bridget's head appeared over the edge of the bunk abruptly, and Testament glanced up at him, startled.  The boy was smiling faintly.  "You mean, it's lonely."

Testament's eyes narrowed.  "Lonely…?" he echoed.  He had never thought of it in such a way.

Bridget's head disappeared, only to be replaced by a pair of small feet and spindly legs.  Gradually the boy worked his way over the edge of the bed, lowering himself until his toes brushed Testament's mattress.  The Gear could only stare in bewilderment as Bridget couched down, still gripping his own bunk, until he finally pitched forward unceremoniously onto the Gear's stomach.

Testament grunted, leaning back as best he could as Bridget shifted and wriggled against him.  "What are you doing?" he demanded.  He was in no mood to put up with these childish antics, but by the time he thought enough to try and push Bridget off, it was too late; the boy was settled on top of him, arms tight around his waist and head pillowed on his chest.  "Bridget?"

"You don't really wanna go, do you?" Bridget asked, wiggling so that his legs rested in a comfortable tangle around Testament's.  "You'll be lonely.  And the best cure for loneliness is being with someone.  Right?"

Testament snorted irritably at his reasoning.  "There's not enough room for you," he muttered, trying to pry Bridget away from him.  He wasn't used to this kind of close contact, and he wasn't sure what to make of the extra weight against his chest.  "Get off."

"Nope."  All his prodding only encouraged Bridget to tighten his arms, keeping him firmly rooted.  "Didn't you contact us in the beginning because you wanted to see Dizzy?  You must have been lonely then, too."  He chuckled as he shifted lower, settling himself comfortably under Testament's arm.  "I'll keep you company."

"Bridget…."  Testament sighed; Bridget seemed intent on staying, and it might not be worth the effort to try and push him away.  Instead he settled as best he could with the addition to his sleeping space.  It was strange, and a little humbling, to feel the gentle press of Bridget's chest with every intake of breath, the warmth of another's skin.  It reminded him of the days when he had first met Dizzy, alone and frightened, the way she had curled next to him in colder nights.  Without really thinking the Gear reached up, sliding his hand through the long strands of Bridget's thick hair.  There was a different texture to it than Dizzy's—it was tangled and coarse, unlike the perfect locks of a Gear, and he was distracted for a while by trying to dislodge the worst knots with his fingers.  

It was warm—pleasant, even, to accept the closeness of another beating life.  However, he could still feel the imprint of ancient instinct against his ribs, the quiet, undulating disgust that had once been bred into him.  He hated humans.  It was his nature and his purpose, and none of Bridget's innocent gestures would ever be able to erase that from him completely.  But for now he was content, if not a little confused, as he closed his eyes in preparation of sleep.

"Bridget…you said…"  Testament's fingers curled slightly in his hair.  "Does this mean you're lonely, too?"

Bridget didn't respond, and by the deepness of his breath Testament assumed he was no longer awake.  Somewhere nearby Ky, too, shifted in his sleep.  Seeing as he had no choice but to follow their examples the Gear relaxed, gradually letting his concerns slip away beneath the pressure of a young body against his chest.

"Hey, watch where you're flinging that stuff."

"Cut it out, you're gonna make it uneven."

"How about this?  He can wear this!"

"He's _not_ wearing that."

Ky sighed, doing his best not to fidget as the girls swarmed around him.  Having managed to obtain a few hours worth of sleep the night before he was somewhat rested, until what seemed like half the crew dragged him, still yawning, from his room to the galley.  He'd been fed and bathed, and was now undergoing any number of ridiculous treatments and procedures, none of which could be considered very dignified.

"You should have picked a better color."

"This color's fine—hey, watch it!"

"Ah!  My skirt!"

"Are you all right, Ky?"

The last voice belonged to Dizzy, and he smiled slightly in relief.  He wasn't yet brave enough to open his eyes, fearful of what he might see and also because they were still a bit itchy.  "I'm all right," he quietly assured.  Despite all the madness that seemed to be whirling about he'd been able to feel her hands against his back, the heat of her magic helping to ease the sting from his yet healing burns.  Which was greatly appreciated, considering that the pirates seemed determined to tear him apart.

"Hmm…not bad," Bridget declared, somewhere in front of him.  "I think we went with the right color."

"Told you so."

"You should have gone with the blue."

Ky took a deep breath and opened his eyes at last; the girls halted, standing back with sudden, anxious attention.  "Can I see?" he asked, trying to sit up taller for when he beheld his fate.

"Not yet—first, the clothes."

With a sigh Ky allowed himself to be tugged to his feet.  The girls seemed to be everywhere, helping him strip out of his sleep shirt before setting in with far too much interest on his pajama bottoms.  Yelping in a very undignified manner Ky managed to shoo them away long enough to do the job himself, turning discreetly away until a pair of pants were thrust into his arms.  He gulped when he realized what the material was.  "Is this really necessary?"

"You want to fit in, don't you?"

"This is Rome, after all."

Sighing in resignation, Ky stepped into the pants and fastened them around his hips—they hung lower than he would have liked, and he could feel something brush against his calves when he moved.  As soon as his pants were secured the crew pounced once more, forcing him to sit as they helped him into the rest of his clothing.  With so many helpers it didn't take long, and at last they seemed ready to let him see what terrible things had been done to him.  

Bridget slipped around behind him, turning his stool so that he could see the full-length mirror leaning against the far wall.   He had to admit, it was a startling transformation.  Not only was he clean, fingernails clipped and his injuries mostly mended, but his entire appearance had changed.  His hair was now a dark brown shade with a few highlights, stiff from the dye so that it spiked out a bit more than usual.  The contacts Bridget had helped him put in earlier seemed to make his eyes gleam amber, matching the lighter shade in his hair.  Someone had even applied some makeup to his face—barely enough to really notice, and yet it somehow made his face look sharper, the lines of his cheekbones more defined, as well as around his mouth.  His attire had been equally altered; he was now clad in soft leather pants which rose just to his naval and widened at the ankle, and a vest of the same material which barely passed the bottom of his ribs.  Though it carried buttons it was clear there was no way the garment was large enough to stretch across his chest, and was held closed by only a pair of silver chains.  Both vest and pants were trimmed in bright yellow.  The outfit was completed with more leather around his wrists, thick boots, and the same silver cross necklace he always wore.  

"Well?" Bridget chirped.  "What do you think?"

"Is it really me?"  Ky reached out as if to touch his own bizarre reflection, but paused when he caught sight of his now black, shiny fingernails.  He frowned.  "Who did this?"

"Oh, that was me," one of the girls to his left said shyly.  "Bridget said you'd be in all black, so I thought it'd look cute."

Ky blinked down at his hands, baffled.  "Cute?"

"Don't touch them—they're still wet."

"Well?"  Bridget was all but bouncing excitedly.  "Do you like it or not?"

Ky pushed to his feet, approaching the mirror so he could get a better look at himself.  The leather was tight around his hips and thighs, and though at first he worried it would restrict his mobility he found it didn't hamper him too much.  It was actually almost…pleasing, the way the constriction drew attention to his hips, as if settling his center of gravity lower on his body.  The vest, also, left his arms free to move easily.  A moment later he realized what it had been touching his legs—from the back of the pants were a pair of long fabric strips, like coat tails, which shifted whenever he moved.  He twisted a little, watching them sway back and forth.  Everything seemed to fit his body perfectly, and he was amazed that Bridget had been able to judge his stature so well.  He ran his hands lightly over the vest and pants, getting the feel of his new attire—careful not to smudge his drying nails, to his mild annoyance.

"We~ll?" Bridget sang.

"It's…a lot, isn't it?"  Ky frowned thoughtfully as he continued to turn a little, fascinated by his reflection as if it were no longer him.  "I've never worn anything like this."  He rubbed idly at his stomach.  "It's strange having so much bare skin."

"We've got a lot of people to fool," Bridget pointed out.  The girls around him were all wide-eyed and almost breathless, as if waiting for some greater response from their charge.  "Everyone in Rome knows your face, but they'll never suspect it's you if you look like that."

"No, I suppose they wouldn't."  Ky blushed a little, wondering what his men would think if they were to see him like this.  But despite his embarrassment there was no denying that he found the entire transformation amazing, even a little awing.  He'd never considered that a mere change of outfit could make him look so unrecognizable; it reminded him a little of Testament, and how he had looked so different when dressed in casual clothing, surrounded by the ship's children….

"I like it," Ky admitted at last, turning to face his benefactors.  "It's embarrassing, but you all did a wonderful job.  I don't think anyone could possibly recognize me like this."

The girls let out a cheer, and the officer was nearly tumbled as several of them pounced on him in their excitement.  One of them called for them to watch out for his nails, which coaxed a few to stand back.  Ky couldn't help but chuckle at their enthusiasm; Bridget especially looked about to burst from pride, his hands on his hips and face beaming.  "See?" he declared.  "I told you I'd pick something good."

Though Ky had admitted to being satisfied with their work, he was nowhere near as pleased when it became time to leave the room.  It was easy, with the girls and Bridget, to pretend his new outfit was only for laughs and enjoyment, but the closer they came to the ship's hull the more he realized he was about to traverse this way through open public.  His first obstacle would be enduring Johnny's reaction.

As he had expected, the man burst out laughing at the first sight of him.  Ky rolled his eyes, crossing his arms self-consciously over his chest as he and May nearly doubled over each other with hysterics.  "Yes, I know," he muttered, sending Bridget and Dizzy glares when they giggled as well.  "It is not _that _amusing."

"Oh, of course it is!" Johnny declared, giving Ky's shoulder a light shove.  "You look…adorable."  And he laughed some more, making his way down the ship's steps to the airfield below.  May followed with a hand stifling her own snickering.

Ky sighed, but he had no choice but to follow as well.  His mood sobered quickly the moment his feet touched the dusty landing strip, and he took in his first in-person view of the city of Rome in several years.  The outline of its shattered buildings raised something of a feeling of dread inside him, and he couldn't help but shift anxiously as he joined Johnny and May.  "It's…been a long time."

Johnny cocked an eye. "You all right?"

"Yes."  Ky shook himself.  "I'll be fine."

Dizzy and Bridget came up behind him a moment later, and Ky turned just in time to see Testament starting down the stairs as well.  Ky cringed slightly, expecting a particularly embarrassing reaction from the Gear.  But when Testament's eyes fell on him they only widened slightly, his gait pausing as if having not recognized this new crew addition.  A strange expression twisted his features, mostly one of confusion, before he continued to the earth and stepped past without word.

"Testament!"  Bridget turned on him enthusiastically, thrilled to see him clad in the outfit he had made for him.  Though in truth it was nearly identical to his old attire, it appeared that Bridget had done an excellent job in its construction.  "Does it fit?" the boy asked anxiously.  "Do you like it?"

"It fits," Testament assured.  "You…did a good job."

Frowning, Ky watched them.  Once again he was at a loss as to how to respond to Testament and all his behavioral vagaries.  It seemed that with every encounter his impression of the Gear changed.  Even now he could clearly remember the scene he'd witnessed the night before, and the brief glance he'd been granted earlier that morning: Testament reclined easily in bed with Bridget draped over him, both of them quiet, peaceful, and natural.  To Ky it seemed like an inordinately intimate gesture considering the brief span of their acquaintance, and yet both of them regarded each other now with no greater uncertainty or affection than before.  Perhaps he was only overestimating the significance of the event and the closeness they'd shared.  It had, after all, been quite some time since Ky shared a bed with anyone, innocently or otherwise, to the point in which he barely remembered what it felt like to be so close to another person.  He wondered if it had been as much of a comfort to them as he assumed it should have been.  What it would feel like, if Bridget had granted him that same courtesy and reassurance.

"Well, here we are," Johnny announced, and Ky shook himself, stepping forward to better hear.  His foolish imagination he banished to the corners of his mind for now.  "Dizzy, May, you two will be in charge of the ship while we're gone."

May started to protest, predictably enough, but Johnny was already a step ahead.  "Those robots know we have Ky," he reminded her.  "They might come looking for him, and if they do you'll need to defend your crew.  Right?"

Though clearly displeased, May nodded, crossing her arms.  "Be careful, Johnny," she told him, with as much seriousness as Ky had ever seen her display.  Johnny reassured her with a smile, and Dizzy as well, before the two girls turned to return to the ship.

"We'll go in two groups," Johnny said to the remaining trio, adjusting his hat and new sunglasses.  "Since Testament and Bridget are the only two that might be able to spot our dark-eyed friend should he show up, they'll be in different groups.  I'll go with Bridget, Ky with Testament."  As if anticipating another objection he added, "You should avoid fighting if you can help it.  From what Bridget tells me those robots won't attack Testament right away, and they shouldn't be able to recognize you at all.  The two of you should be safe to gather lots of information that way."

Ky nodded seriously.  He and Bridget wouldn't have made sense as a team anyway, given that Bridget was the weakest of them and he himself was still recovering.  Though he wasn't sure what to expect from his combination with Testament it was the best option.  "Still, I should have a weapon.  In case."

"Oh, right."  Johnny reached behind him, undoing an extra belt around his waist to offer it—along with a sheathed sword—to Ky.  "I'm sure you're prefer Thunderseal, but that kind of ruins the point of disguising you."

"I understand."  Ky slid the sword out an inch, inspecting the blade.  It was a katana, larger than a normal one but still thinner and shorter than the swords he was used to.  It would have to do for now.  "I suppose we'll be meeting back here?" he asked, securing the belt to his waist.

"Yeah—at sundown, so give yourself enough time to get back through the city.  None of us are staying after dark.  In the meantime, if you get in trouble, I already gave Testament a radio you can contact us with.  Everyone set?"

"Yeah!" Bridget piped up, bouncing to Johnny's side.  Ky was startled to notice the massive steel weight settled on the boy's slender hips—it should have crushed someone of Bridget's stature, but he didn't appear to be hampered at all.  He seemed to be underestimating many things lately.

"All right."  Ky stepped forward, taking a deep breath as he set his gaze on the city ahead of them.  "Let's go." 

[They will get to Rome in the next chapter.  I promise ^^;;]


	8. Chapter 7

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Special big happy hug thanks to Ed, and his fabulous plot FAQ!  I could have done the story without it, but then…it'd be wrong ^^;; .  So thanks!  We all appreciate the work you put into educating us (it's up over at gamefaqs for anyone interested in reading it—definitely worth checking out, especially for fic writers).

Also, I'm having fun exploring Johnny's character, so I hope you'll forgive me for that (especially in the next chapter…)

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**Culmination**

Chapter 7

Ky sighed quietly to himself as he and Testament moved away from the bar they had purchased a simple lunch from: turkey legs and some kind of flat bread which was smothered in any number of spices and what might have been cheese.  Rather than eat inside the bar and continue to gather attention from a few of the more drunken patrons, they'd taken their meal back to the streets, where they could watch the people pass by.  It was almost casual, the way the stood together in the shade of a small shop awning, making quick work of the food.  But it didn't lighten Ky's mood.

Ky hadn't expected being in Rome again to affect him as much as it was.  Though he had never spent enough time in the city to remember the layout of street corners and toppled buildings, just the knowledge of their location was enough to make his skin crawl.  A few times goosebumps rose across his skin when they passed a landmark he did recognize.  Testament glanced at him once, and Ky had explained his ill ease away by blaming it on the cold, and his unfamiliar lack of covering attire.  It was one of the very few times they had spoken to each other in the past few hours of their search.  They must have looked like quite a pair, wandering the streets in their leather, Ky with a sword at his hip and Testament baring the large black raven on his shoulder.  The bird, which had fluttered to its current perch seemingly out of nowhere when they first entered the city, Testament referred to as "Rael."

"She's a creature of real magic," Testament's explanation floated back from Ky's memory as he watched the Gear feed her a few small crumbs from his bread.  "We've been together for a while now.  I didn't think it wise to keep her aboard the ship, though—she gets restless."

Ky wasn't sure what that meant, but in looking at the bird now with its dark feathers, long beak and gleaming red eyes, he knew better than to question.

They had come far through the city, with only a few rumors to their credit.  By now the entire city seemed to know about the incident with the robots a day previous—again Ky realized his error in judgment when he learned that, despite his carefree appearance and nature, Johnny was regarded in high respect among many of the citizens dwelling in Rome's outskirts.  He visited often and always did good, honest business, and everyone they talked to expressed their relief in his well being.  Not that any had expected a few robots to be able to harm him.  Ky had never really been able to think of Johnny as respectable, and was beginning to wonder if he had any talent for reading a man's character at all.

"We're going to have to go further in," Testament said abruptly, plucking a piece of meat off his drumstick to offer Rael.  The bird gulped it down eagerly.  "Anyone that knows anything will have holed themselves up in the interior during the day.  We won't learn anything out here."

"Yes, you're right," Ky replied.  His appetite was already failing, and he discarded the rest of his own meat long before it had been picked clean.  The bread, too, was too spicy for his liking, but he forced himself to take a few bites, if only for the energy it might provide him.  "Johnny and Bridget said they would stay further to the north, so that leaves the entire South District for us."  He pursed his lips, not entirely pleased by that prospect.

"Have you been there?"

"…Yes."

Testament didn't press him any more than that, remaining quiet as they finished the remains of their meal.  Ky was finding it not as difficult being with the Gear as he imagined it might be; Testament's focused demeanor helped to calm him somewhat, while at the same time granting him the space he needed to work through his thoughts.  This place held special significance for Ky, and Testament respected that, and though it appeared by their lack of communication they were displeased with the other, Ky was beginning to think that they didn't make too poor of a team.

They started off again, their path taking them toward the South District.  Ky's fingers curled slightly in want of Thunderseal's familiar grip.  Unwillingly his mind jumped again, and for a moment he thought he had spotted among the crowd of people a familiar, straight-backed figure.  But he knew better, and he shook his head, turning his gaze forward.  His memory was playing tricks on him, here in this place that had once been his battleground.  One of the last they had shared.

"Sol…."

Testament glanced at him out the corner of his eye, but he didn't speak as they continued.

On nearly the other end of the city, Johnny and Bridget were having a similar lack of fortune in their search.  Though everyone was familiar with the rumors surrounding the increase of shady robots running about, no one seemed to know anything concrete.  They received more comments about Johnny's latest "male" crewmate than anything else, and though Bridget seemed to be doing well by the attention, it was of little help to their investigation.

Johnny spoke to Testament briefly through their shared radios shortly after noon, when both parties were nearing the outskirts of what was considered to be Rome's inner section.  The pair similarly had nothing to report, and with brief warnings passed between them Johnny led his partner deeper into the city.  There was no sudden change of scenery to indicate they were no longer in friendly territory; it was still light out, and shops were still doing what appeared to be respectable business.  But there were less people on these streets, and those they did find would not face them when speaking.  They were a different sort of city folk, some nervous and distracted, others silently menacing.  Johnny noticed with some concern that despite this Bridget appeared to be gathering more attention than ever, in the form of half-concealed, leering eyes.  He was sure to keep the boy close to his side whenever they paused to speak with someone.

"Damn, this whole thing must be even more hush hush than I thought," Johnny complained.  The hour was progressing far ahead of them, and they'd soon have to start back toward the ship—empty handed.  He didn't expect Ky and Testament to have had any better luck, and the idea of facing a frustrated police officer was not encouraging.

"Let's try one more place," Bridget suggested brightly, ever the optimist.  "You said the really bad people don't come out until late—maybe they'll be waking up now."

Johnny cocked an eye doubtfully, but he'd learned early on in their acquaintance that arguing with Bridget was a useless venture.  He shrugged.  "I guess it can't hurt.  But after that we start back."

"All right."  Bridget scanned the street they were on, taking particular care in choosing their last attempt for the evening.  "This way," he declared suddenly, heading for bar across the street with a neon sign bearing the words, "Good Beer."  It seemed as good a place as any, and Johnny shrugged again as he followed his companion inside.

A few heads lifted, drawn doubtlessly by Bridget's bright attire and light gait, and then again by the appearance of Johnny.  Though usually he appreciated his fame, Johnny wasn't sure he liked the dark gazes he received.  Even being something of a celebrity on Rome's outskirts, that meant very little this deep in the city, and he was almost expecting someone to make a fuss.  These kinds of criminals didn't always take well to people out of place.

"Bridget, stay close," Johnny warned him, setting a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder.  He scanned the bar, trying to assess which of the patrons might best help them.  The bartender didn't look promising.  In his search, however, his gaze fell on a much more familiar pair seated at the back of the bar.  Relieved, he guided Bridget across the room to where Baiken and Anji were sharing drinks.  "Looks like you picked a good one after all," he complimented his young partner.

Ky's anxiety was starting to get on Testament's nerves.  He understood the reason for it—Ky had fought here at the time of the city's collapse, defending a righteous cause, and now was forced to walk its thief-laden streets alongside a murderous Gear.  Though at the moment Testament couldn't imagine a scenario of equal disquiet for himself, he respected that Ky's reactions were normal and warranted.  They didn't, however, contribute well to his own state of mind.  Having Rael once more on his shoulder was a comfort, but it was difficult to concentrate on their search with Ky glancing about nervously, his posture straight and steps hurried.  This city carried enough for them to worry about without him attracting attention.

"Calm down," Testament said at last, trying to keep his voice calm and even.  "You're standing out."

"I can't help it," Ky replied quietly.  "It's this place.  There's so many people who—"

"You'd like to arrest?  I can imagine."  When Testament glanced to his left, he caught a glimpse of a shop window displaying government regulation weaponry—not the sort that should be going for cheap on the streets.  "But this isn't about that.  So calm down."

Ky sighed, and though he seemed to be making the effort, it only made his movements that much more strained.  Giving up, Testament turned his attention forward once more.  "We'll have to head back soon, anyway," he murmured, taking note of how low the sun had fallen.  "In a few minutes we can contact Johnny and tell him we're­—"

Testament broke off suddenly when his gaze fell on a hooded figure standing off to the side of the road.  The man was almost perfectly motionless, no tremor of movement betraying even his breath.  It wasn't so much that which caught his attention, however, as the description Bridget had given them earlier: a cloaked man, watching from the shadows…it may have even been one of the robots.  "Ky," he hissed, though he didn't halt just yet.

Ky glanced over, and though he didn't see what Testament was talking about right away his body tensed.  "What?"

Ky didn't receive a response.  Just then the man lifted a hand, drawing his hood back to reveal his face; the sight of which drawing a long, cold shudder from the Gear at his side.

Bridget's eyes were wide as they made their way toward the pair at the far end of the bar.  He hadn't seen either of them before, but he could guess at who they were: Baiken and Mito Anji, judging by the reports he'd gotten through his bounty work.  They looked like a formidable combination.  Surely they had to have some information on what was going on, especially as targets themselves.

"Hey, there," Johnny greeted pleasantly enough as he helped himself to a seat at the far table, Bridget just beside.  "I didn't expect to see a familiar face here, but I'm not surprised.  It's been a while."

"Not long enough," Baiken sneered over her glass.  "You have some business with me, Pirate?  I'm in the middle of a drink."

Johnny didn't seem to hear, turning instead to Anji.  "You must be Mito Anji—am I right?"

"Yeah."  Anji, at least, seemed relieved by the addition of some favorable company.  When Johnny offered his hand he took it whole-heartedly, and Bridget's as well.  "And you're Johnny of the Jellyfish.  We heard about what happened to you yesterday."  His gaze leapt to Bridget.  "This a crew member of yours?"

"Bridget," the boy introduced himself grandly.

"Pleased to meet you."

"This ain't a goddamn social outing," Baiken interrupted them tersely.  Her skin was a little flushed, testimony to whatever she'd had to drink that afternoon.  "Tell us what you want or get lost.  You're ruining my booze."

Johnny chuckled, unperturbed by her rough manners.  "In that case, we won't stay long.  But we were hoping you could lend us some friendly information, Ms. Wanted Criminal."

Baiken's sharp gaze snapped to him, but it was Anji who replied, "This is about those robots."

"Bingo."

"So…you're wanted, too?"  Anji glanced at Bridget curiously.  "Even you?"

"Me and May," Johnny corrected.  "And you, and Baiken, and Chipp Zanuff, and a whole slew of others.  We were hoping you two might know something about it."

Though Baiken appeared supremely uninterested, Anji frowned down at the table, giving the matter careful thought.  "We have run into a bunch of them," he admitted.  "But…Chipp's wanted, too?  How do you know?"

Bridget perked up.  "We made a list—the robot told us everyone he was after.  You two are Japanese, aren't you?  There were a lot of Japanese names on the list."

This time Baiken did draw her attention back, and she and Johnny shared a significant glance that Bridget couldn't interpret.  "Japanese," she repeated dully.  "That's nothing new.  The Bureau has always been after Japanese."

"But why the others?" Bridget protested.  "Chipp, and Jam, and Wu Jin?  They're not Japanese."

"Because of their Ki," Anji took over the explanation.  "It has to be.  I don't know much about Jam, but Chipp trained under Master Tsuyoshi, who was an expert at using Ki magic.  And all Japanese are capable of using Ki.  Maybe they're collecting Ki users for some reason…?"

"Really?  I never thought of that…"  Bridget pursed his lips thoughtfully, but when he looked to see if Johnny had been similarly enlightened the man was only smiling grimly, as if the information were nothing new.  He would have questioned but thought better of it.

"The Bureau is always up to something stupid," Baiken was saying, drawing Bridget back from his thoughts.  "It's not surprising if they're after people that can use Ki—people like that are a danger to them."

"You're really that powerful?"

Baiken scowled.  "Of course."

"That still doesn't explain everything," Johnny said, sounding far more serious than he had a few minutes ago.  "They can't just be going after people who are strong.  Most of us have no intention of defying the Bureau.  There has to be something else."

"Something to do with Millia Rage?" Bridget hazarded.  "She was on the list, too, but she's not Japanese and doesn't uses Ki."

Baiken took another drink of her beer.  "Millia Rage uses one of the Forbidden Beasts—an anti-Gear weapon."

Bridget frowned down at his lap.  That didn't seem to be much help, and he fidgeted slightly as the table fell silent for a moment.  "Well…" he started slowly, "…so she's an anti-Gear weapon.  Can…."  He glanced up at the others hesitantly.  "Can you use Ki as an anti-Gear weapon?"

Three blank stares turned to him, and Bridget squirmed self-consciously.  "You could, couldn't you?  Ki's supposed to be really special, isn't it?  And if the Beasts are used to fight Gears, maybe…they want to use Ki, too…?"

He ducked his head, waiting for the others to proclaim him foolish, but then Johnny laughed.  "That's actually not bad," he chuckled.  "Something simple like that.  Using Ki to fight Gears…."  He turned to Baiken and Anji.  "Would something like that work?"

Anji lowered his head, looking suddenly troubled, and so Baiken took it upon herself to answer.  "It's possible," she affirmed.  "Most Gears can take a beating from really powerful magic.  But there isn't exactly much Ki running around anymore, since you can't just make it like you can most magic."  She shrugged her one shoulder stiffly.  "You think the Bureau is trying to use Ki to fight Gears, it's not hard to believe.  Though it doesn't make much sense."

"Why not?" asked Bridget.

"Because there aren't that many Gears left," Johnny filled in.  "Not many that are a threat to them, in any case.  Unless…they know something we don't."

"If this is all true," Anji interrupted suddenly, his head still lowered, "you might be right, Johnny.  And even if there isn't something going on now behind this all…there will be."

Johnny and Bridget both looked to him questioningly, while Baiken's expression hardened.  "What do you mean?" Johnny asked first.

"I…."  Anji took in a deep breath.  "I met him."

"Anji," Baiken hissed in warning.

"I met him," Anji repeated firmly, facing them at last.  "I met the man who created the Gears."

Testament didn't react as quickly as he should have.  For a moment everything slowed around him—the crowds of people were suddenly no more than a dull blur, Ky's fidgeting at his side a distant memory.  There was only the dark eyes of the man across from him, cold and deeply familiar, clawing at his uncovered skin.  Without the rain to mar his vision he could place them clearly.  It wasn't until Rael began to screech that he managed to wake himself, just in time to see the man turn down another street.

"Testament?"  Beside him, Ky took his arm urgently.  "What's going on?"

"I know him," Testament said quietly, and all at once his expression contorted into one of wrath.  "That miserable…."  Before Ky could stop him he was running, Rael giving a tiny squawk as she took off from his shoulder to fly ahead.  He was barely aware that Ky was following him, that his heart was pounding faster than it should have been.  He was only desperate to catch up to the man who was fleeing several meters ahead of them, to kill him if given the chance.

They didn't have to run far; another turn brought them abruptly into a wide, unlit alleyway, and Testament skidded to a halt at the sight of his quarry standing, straight-backed and unmoving, directly in front of him.  "You…."  His fists clenched at his sides as he stared the man down, giving no notice when Ky entered the alley as well.  "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not here for you, if that's what you mean," the man replied, his voice echoing hollowly off the stone.  It was a low, chilling sound that grated against Testament's ears.  The man himself was tall, a match for Testament's own height, with dark brown hair cut short around his round face, and wide, almost black eyes.  "Though I do have some questions for you."  He glanced at Ky significantly.  "And whoever your little friend is."

Ky straightened, and when Testament glanced back slightly he could see that Ky had realized; this was the unseen enemy that had attacked him in the rain those several days ago in Genoa.  Thankfully, the officer knew better than to speak; he kept his jaw tightly shut, not wanting to give away his identity.

"He has nothing to do with you and I," Testament countered, another cold shudder running through him.  He suddenly understood how Ky must have been feeling all afternoon, old memories clawing at the edge of his brain….  "You shouldn't be here.  You should be dead."

"I saw you with Kiske that night in Genoa," the stranger continued as if he hadn't heard.  His posture was still unnaturally erect, even more so than when Testament had known him those years ago.  "And I know the Jellyfish Pirates picked you up.  Where is Ky Kiske?"

"You should be dead!" Testament raged, his fists tight and trembling at his sides.  When he started to take a step forward, however, Ky took his arm to halt him.  He glared at him, but the officer's expression was firm, and he managed to regain his composure.  Heated eyes turned back to the stranger before them.  "You're the one behind all this.  Why?"

The man blinked slowly, his own stern expression unchanging.  "Where is Ky Kiske?"

"Dead," Testament snapped at last.  "I did take him to the pirates, and he died the next night.  Now tell me why!"

"He's…dead."  The stranger sighed quietly, lifting his hands to begin undoing the small fastenings on his cloak.  Both Ky and Testament held their ground cautiously in expectation of an attack.  "I don't believe you—Ky Kiske would not have died as easily as that.  It appears I'll have to discipline you."

Testament took a step back as Rael began to screech upon his shoulder, her thin claws digging into his skin and drawing thin trails of blood.  By now Ky was thoroughly confused, and in light of Testament's sudden retreat he drew his sword, preparing for whatever this crazed stranger had in store for them.  "Whoever you are," he murmured lowly, "you cannot intend to defy the both of us."

"And whoever _you_ are," their enemy returned coldly, "I think it's time you understand what you're dealing with."  

He swept his cloak off in a ripple of thick fabric, letting it flutter to the ground in a heap so that the attire he bore beneath was finally displayed.  This time it was Ky who stepped back in alarm.  The stranger bore the uniform of the Holy Order, tattered but clearly recognizable, trimmed in red in contrast to the blue worn by his robots.  For a moment Ky was thrown off guard; combined with the man's dark brown hair he almost resembled Sol.

The hesitation was more than enough, and without word or warning he leapt upon the pair, sword drawn and arching.

"Met him?" Bridget echoed incredulously, glancing between each of his three companions in confusion and alarm.  "But…isn't that impossible?  He'd have to be over a hundred years old!"

"Keep your voice down," Baiken hissed, and he quickly fell silent beneath the intensity of her glare. He was thankful when she turned it upon Anji instead.  "And you, shut up.  This isn't the place for—"

"They have a right to know what he told me," Anji protested.  "Everyone does.  This isn't just about me—or you—anymore.  Not if he's right and it could lead to another war."

Johnny and Bridget both stiffened in their seats, turning wide eyes on the man.  Even Baiken shrank back a little with the gravity his words implied.  When Anji realized that they were all taking him seriously he sobered somewhat, leaning back.  

"Tell us," Johnny instructed grimly.  "Everything."

Anji licked his lips, and when he glanced at Baiken as if for reassurance she turned away.  "He told me that he had never intended to create Gears for destruction," he explained in a hushed tone.  "And I believe him—there's so much their technology could offer us, without leading to war and suffering.  He never wanted things to…end up this way."

Bridget lowered his head slightly.  He himself had not lived through much of the war, as his home, nestled in rolling, distant countryside, had never fallen victim to the cruelty of Gears.  He had never even seen a Gear until meeting Dizzy aboard _Mayship_, and Testament soon after.  He had grown up with the stories, however, and those were more than enough to make him wonder about what Anji was saying; to know that the possibility of another war terrified him.  "What's going to happen?" he asked, unnaturally quiet.  "Is there really going to be…another war?"

Anji regarded him quietly a moment, as if fearful of saying too much in front of the young boy.  "I don't know," he admitted.  "But he told me that part of why the Gears were created was to…deal with a threat.  That he did it for the sake of our world."  He lifted his gaze with a quiet sigh to the ceiling, as if reliving the memory of that short exchange.  "I believed him, and I almost joined him.  I…could have even killed Baiken, if not for—"

"You," Baiken interrupted tersely, "could not have killed me."

A faint smile curled his lips.  "No, maybe not.  But what I'm saying is the truth.  And if whatever the Postwar Administration Bureau has to do with that reason, I'm sure that man will respond.  He'll do whatever he can for what he believes is best for this planet."

Johnny tipped his head slightly so he could stare at Anji over the top of his sunglasses.  "And do you still believe him?"

Anji returned his gaze with some trepidation.  "I do," he replied softly.  "I won't go back to him, if that's what you're worried about.  I just…I don't know."  He escaped Johnny's eyes once more.  "Something's going to happen.  And if Gears go against the Bureau again, it won't be anything that will end easily."

"I see."  Johnny straightened, adjusting his glasses so that none of them were able to read whatever expression he might have really been making.  "It's a problem, isn't it?"

"That's an understatement," Baiken scoffed.  "We're talking about a second Crusade—even you should understand what that means."

"More than you know."  Johnny started to push to his feet, and when Bridget noticed he quickly followed suit.  "If there's nothing else, we should probably be going—the others will start to wonder."

"Oh…yeah."  Bridget gulped, and suddenly remembering his manners turned to nod to Baiken and Anji.  "It was a pleasure meeting you."

Though Baiken only snorted and turned away, Anji returned his farewell.  "Take care of yourselves."

They turned to leave, but just then Baiken was on her feet as well, snagging Johnny by the elbow.  "One more thing.  Come'ere—adult talk."  And with that she began to drag the man away, toward the bar, three pairs of curious stares on her.

Anji sighed once she was out of earshot.  "That Baiken."

Bridget smiled slightly.  "She's pretty cool, huh?  But why didn't she want you to tell us?"  His shoulders drooped a little.  "All this talk about war…it's really scary."

"Yeah.  It is."  Anji was silent for a moment, watching Baiken's turned back as she and Johnny spoke.  He then returned his attention to Bridget.  "There's something else she probably wouldn't want me to tell you," he said with a lighter tone.  "But maybe I will, to get back at her."

"Oh yeah?"  His spirits lifting a little at the prospect of a secret, Bridget quickly leaned closer.  "What is it?"

"You're not the only one tracking these robots down," Anji told him conspiratorially.  "Sol Badguy is here."


	9. Chapter 8

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 8

Though Ky had not expected so sudden an attack, his reflexes were more than enough to catch the stranger's blade against his own.  There was strength behind that swing, a kind he hadn't faced in some time, and he quickly twisted his wrist to divert the momentum away from him.  But his opponent was fast—he spun, bringing his sword about in another smooth arch.  He and Ky traded several blows before both broke away, gauging each other.

"You're good," the dark-eyed man compliment through a thin growl.  He adjusted the grip on his sword and charged once more.  Ky was again able to defend despite the unfamiliar weapon he brandished, and in a flurry of passing steel he caught an opening.  Planting his foot he brought the blade around, landing a direct hit to an outstretched forearm.

The force should have been enough to sheer the limb from its body, and yet as soon as the sword connected Ky felt a tremor run up his arm, like the resonance of metal striking more metal.  For a moment he thought he had missed, or that the stranger had been able to bring his sword about fast enough to deflect him, but when he looked he clearly saw the blade of his katana drawing blood from the intact arm.

Ky fell back to Testament's side, his eyes sharp.  "You're not human."

"Maybe I should say the same about you," the man retorted, giving his arm a shake.  The thin incision quickly sealed and left not even a scar behind.  "One of Testament's summons?  He's getting better."

Ky snorted lightly, though he was fairly certain he was being complimented.  "Perhaps."

"Be careful," Testament warned at his side.  He still looked uneasy; there was no doubt this pair shared some history, and though Ky was eager to question him this was clearly not the time for it.  "This isn't the greatest of his strength—he uses magic."

"Magic?"  Ky's fingers tightened bloodlessly around the handle of his katana as a heated shudder passed through his already tense body.  "You're a Gear."

The stranger's expression hardened angrily.  "How dare you."  He lifted his unoccupied hand, within his palm growing a pale, brilliant light.  Ky's heart skipped faintly when he recognized the heat coming off it, making his back burn and throb.  He lifted his sword but he had no defense against magic without Thunderseal, and he tensed in preparation of a dodge.

He wasn't fast enough.  The magic was screaming towards him before he had a chance to get any leverage beneath him, and he was preparing to take the blow when Testament appeared suddenly in front of him.  Something leapt from his voice—a spell of some sort that Ky didn't recognize—blazing a seal of magic into the air before them.  Their enemy's attack was swiftly absorbed in the spinning, iridescent patterns of light.

"You are better," the man begrudgingly admitted as both their magics faded.  He fell back a step, lowering his sword as well.  "This isn't the time to settle our score."

"Wait!" Ky said swiftly, stepping in front of Testament once more.  "You _are_ behind the robots, aren't you?  Tell us what you're after!  Who are you?"

Black eyes regarded him silently, and when he spoke his voice was cold.  "I am the new Order."

Ky ground his teeth together, and before Testament could halt him he charged forward again, raising his sword in a lateral strike.  Had it been Thunderseal in his tight grip he was certain he could have incinerated the man where he stood, but he overestimated the length of his blade—the stranger caught him easily on his own sword, and again his free hand formed a swift ball of magic.  It was smaller than the first, not even enough to singe Ky's clothing, but the impact of the heated spell against his chest sent Ky reeling.  It gave his opponent just enough time to leap back, the simple jump taking him nearly a dozen meters in the air to land on the side of a toppled building.

Ky, who had been saved from being thrown to the ground by Testament's strong hand against his shoulder, cursed as he stared up at their fleeing target.  "Wait!"

"You're still with the Jellyfish Pirates, aren't you?" the stranger called down to them.  "If you really want to know what we're after, ask their captain."  He turned swiftly, disappearing behind the building before either could think to follow, a flutter of shadow at his heels.

Ky cursed again as he was released, already heading for the far wall where the man had disappeared.  "Come on—we can still catch him.  That bastard—"

"No."  Testament stepped away from him, leaning his back against the nearest wall.  "He's gone, Ky.  Leave him."

"But that was _him_!" Ky shouted in frustration.  When he turned back to Testament to protest further he hesitated at the sight; the Gear had one arm slung loosely around his stomach as if ill, his usually gleaming red irises pale and vague.  Something in Ky twisted, as if it were an expression he recognized.  "You know him."

Testament wouldn't meet his gaze.  "Yes," he admitted at last.  "I did.  He…should have been dead by now."

"What does that mean?"  Ky advanced on him as the only one present on which to vent his anger.  Usually he would have displayed more restraint, but he was already weary and drawn taut with too many memories at his surface, the city too real in his eyes and ears.  Too aware that their quarry, the man responsible for betraying and hunting him, was slipping further away with each passing second.

"I'll explain, but not here."  Testament pushed away from the wall, shaking his head slightly.  "This may be more complicated than I thought, and…we need to talk with Johnny and Bridget, let them know we're coming back."  He turned and headed for the mouth of the alley as if there were nothing more left for discussion.

Ky scowled faintly at his back, but there was nothing more he could do.  With one last, frustrated gaze cast at the path their enemy had taken he fell into step behind Testament, allowing him to lead the way into the street once more.

*****

Johnny leaned against the bar, regarding his female company with a serious gaze.  He didn't know Baiken particularly well, but her reputation proceeded her quite a bit, and he knew it best to listen to whatever she had to say; especially if she had chosen to do so outside the audience of her companion.  "So?  What is it?"

"I want to come with you," Baiken said clearly and to the point.  There seemed to be no signs left of her earlier intoxication.  "You're going after those things, aren't you?  Whatever they are they're hunting me, too, and I want in on taking them out."

Johnny smiled grimly.  "I can relate to that.  What about him?"  He nodded his head back toward the table they'd left.

Baiken didn't look, but her expression softened a little, and Johnny had the sudden feeling that he was seeing something particularly rare.  "He can't come.  The truth is…."  She glanced away, trying to look annoyed with herself for being sentimental.  "…I'm taking him back to the Colony.  He hasn't figured it out yet, but he will soon.  Whatever that fuck told him has had him brooding like that for days, and if he's going to live on the outside he can't be distracted like that."

Johnny understood, so he didn't think it necessary to tease her about her taking care of the man.  Maybe it was unfair to Anji, but she had a point.  This fight wasn't for the uncertain, let alone the innocent.  "How can we contact you?"

"We'll be staying in Rome for a while," Baiken said, waving the bartender over so she could get from him a pen and a napkin.  Now that they weren't talking about Anji her voice and face returned to their normal, infallible callousness.  "I don't have a radio, but I can get one.  Give me your frequency."

The question of whether or not he trusted Baiken passed through Johnny's mind for barely a moment, and then he was nodding as he scrawled the numbers out across the dull paper.  "We're going to be doing some investigating in Zepp," he told her as he wrote.  "It'll be overhead in three days, so on the fourth day give us a holler.  We should know something by then."

"All right."  Baiken glanced over the numbers only briefly before slipping the napkin stealthily into the front of her _kimono_.  "But leave that kid behind.  She's worse than Anji."

"He," Johnny corrected around a smirk, "but I'll keep that in mind."  He gave Baiken's shoulder a tap, earning him a glare, as he started back for the table.  "Come on, before they start to like each other."

As soon as Johnny approached Bridget snapped to his feet, looking bright and eager as usual.  It was, however, somewhat suspicious, and Johnny glanced between him and Anji with a thoughtful frown.  "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mito Anji," he declared, shaking the man's hand, "but we have to be going.  Take care of yourself."

"You, too."  Anji shared a look with Bridget, who giggled as they, too, shook hands.  "Look out for each other."

"We will!" Bridget chirped, and with a grin he turned to start for the bar's entrance.  Johnny shrugged, tipped his hat to the pair, and followed.

Once they were out on the street once more Johnny glanced at his companion with a curious eye.  "What was that all about?  You two talk about anything?"

"O~h, not really," Bridget sang as he skipped along.  "But I think he has a crush on Ms. Baiken."

Johnny laughed.  "One might almost consider that an accomplishment," he said with a shake of his head.  Whether or not he believed that was all the two had discussed in his absence, he didn't comment as they started back towards the ship.

*****

Ky was quiet as he and Testament followed the path they'd taken through the streets, his eyes downcast.  His earlier tension had left him, thankfully, but in its place was left dozens of swirling questions and half-formed theories.  Whoever that man had been, Testament knew him.  Whatever was going on, Johnny might know something.  Robots were involved, and judging by the magic he'd witnessed being used by their enemy, Ki was being employed as well.  It made sense with the number of Japanese people being abducted.  He was certain, however, that there was still one missing piece to the puzzle, something important that he hadn't been able to catch yet.

"I'm sorry."

Ky glanced up, startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Testament's voice floating back to him.  "What?"

"For letting him get away."  Testament didn't look back, but he shook his head slightly, adjusting his hair over his shoulders.  "I know how important this is to you."

Ky frowned, but he had already accepted Testament's judgment in that regard.  "It's fine," he assured easily.  "You were probably right to stop me—neither of us seemed to be at our best, and it would be a problem if he had tried to lead us deeper into the city this late.  We'll have another opportunity."

Testament nodded, looking as if he were about to fall silent again, but it was then that Ky decided it might be best to try his thoughts against another.  He picked up his pace just enough to bring him to Testament's side.  "He was using Ki, wasn't he?  I recognized his magic—it was definitely the same as what he used on me in Genoa."

"It seemed that way," Testament replied somewhat hesitantly.  "From what I remember…he didn't used to use Ki before."

"But you said he used magic."

"He did."  Testament kept his gaze carefully forward as they continued, clearly having no intention of answering Ky's inquires directly.  "I'll explain everything I know later."

Ky frowned at him, clearly dissatisfied with such a response, but a moment later he reminded himself of how Testament had looked a while ago, shaken and brooding.  He could definitely understand what it must be like for him to have old history dragged into the open once more, and so he let it go.  "What about…what he said?" he tried instead, unconsciously sliding a hand to his sword hilt.  "About the pirates."

"I'm not sure.  It's not strange to think they know more than they're letting on."

"I don't like it."  There were too many mysterious surrounding the Bureau already to have his own companions hiding information.  If they could in fact be called companions.

Testament shrugged slightly.  "Then you can ask them when we get back."

They reached the airfield just after the last bit of sun disappeared behind a jagged horizon, a fresh chill borne on the wind raising goosebumps along Ky's uncovered skin.  He spotted Johnny and Bridget waiting for them beside an old hanger, chatting idly among themselves.  He couldn't catch any of the conversation, as both quieted as he and Testament approached.  Johnny waved a greeting.  "Hey there.  Glad to see you made it back in one piece."

Ky's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't comment as he joined them.  "Did you find out anything?" he asked at once.

"You could say that," Johnny replied.  Though he was trying to sound casual Ky could see the muscles along his jaw tightening a little, and his frown deepened.  "We met up with a few celebrities—Baiken and Mito Anjji."

"I don't suppose they knew anything?" Testament asked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Not really.  But between the four of us, we may have come up with something.  You two get any info?"

"You could say that," Ky replied in kind, something chilling at the back of his stomach.  He was suddenly drawn all too keenly to all of Johnny's movements, the tilt of his hat that prevented too much of his face from being seen, the light tone of his voice that contrasted how important this information was for them.  "We met the man from Genoa."

"You met him?" Bridget echoed, straightening.  "You were supposed to tell us if there was trouble, you know."

"It wasn't serious," Ky assured him.  "We tried to question him but he managed to escape.  But Testament…might have recognized him, so it could be a lead."  He wasn't sure why he added "might", only that Testament already seemed so uncertain in talking about it—he didn't want Johnny to jump on that information the same way he had.

Johnny nodded thoughtfully.  "Looks like coming to Rome was a good idea after all," he declared, stepping away from the hanger wall.  "We can share notes back on the ship.  Is everyone ready?"

"Wait."

Everyone turned to stare at Bridget, who hadn't moved yet.  He had his arms crossed behind his back, a tiny grin threatening to spread across his lips.  "I got some information, too," he said, almost teasingly.

"Oh?"  Looking quite amused, Johnny crossed his arms and waited to hear what he had to say.  "And what might that be?"

  
Bridget stood a little taller, his chin tilting up in a gesture of pride.  "I found out that Sol Badguy is here."

When Bridget first said the name Ky was certain that he had heard incorrectly.  It didn't seem like the same name, spoken so simply in such a light, innocent tone.  But when Johnny and Testament both sent sharp, startled gazes at the boy he gradually came to realize that Bridget was telling the truth.

"Sol Badguy," Bridget repeated in response to their baffled stares, and this time the name sent a long, cold tremor down Ky's spine.  "You know, that famous mercenary?  He was on his way here a while ago—kind of exciting, isn't it?  I've never met him."

"Hey," Johnny started, "where did you—"  He broke off when he realized Ky had turned, striding purposefully back towards the city.  "Ky, where do you think you're—"

Ky ignored him.  He saw only the dimmed outline of Rome's skyline before him, dark and cruelly inviting.  He should have known better than this; finding Sol in a city like this would be impossible, especially at night when its most malicious residents took to the streets.  Those thoughts didn't pass through the officer as he set his jaw and glared definitely back at the entrance to the labyrinth of stone.  All he knew, in that instant, was that on those twisted streets walked the answer to all his mind's frenzied questions.

"Ky."  A hand snapped around his elbow.  "What—"

Ky twisted, jerking swiftly out of Johnny's hold and continuing without falter.  "I'm going to find him."

"Don't be ridiculous," the pirate snorted.  "Find him in Rome?  At night?  This _is_ Sol Badguy, you know."

"I know that!" Ky snapped, turning suddenly to face Johnny.  Behind him, Bridget and Testament were watching the scene with stunned confusion, and Ky quickly diverted his gaze from them.  Neither of them would understand the sudden anxiety twisting in his stomach.  "But I have to find him."

"Ky," Johnny tried again to reason with him.

"He's _here_."  Ky stood his ground, and though his eyes had taken a different shade their intensity had not diminished.  Something fierce was burning at the back of his skull, igniting all the frustrations he had been harboring and finally bringing them into form.  "We're here, Baiken and Anji, the robots, the man from Genoa—if Sol's here, too, he must know something.  He must be here for a reason."  He spun again, intending to march off without further hindrance.  "And I'll hear it."

He had expected Johnny's protests to continue, but wasn't prepared for the hand that tightened, vice-like, around his wrist, nearly spinning him about as he was drawn back.  "Don't be a fool," Johnny hissed, meeting Ky glare for glare over the top of his sunglasses.  "That man and his robots are still in there—if you go back alone, as you are, how will you fight them off?  You still haven't—"

"I don't care," Ky interrupted him yet again, drawing a scowl from the man.  "You don't understand—I have to find him."

"Well, you're not."  Johnny gave him a sharp tug, and Ky stumbled a moment over his feet as he began to get dragged back towards the ship.  "I'm not letting you run off just so you can get yourself killed."

Glowering in annoyance Ky planted his feet, throwing his weight back so that Johnny was halted—nearly toppled—by the sudden shift in force.  "Let me go," he demanded icily, and when he wasn't released instantly his voice rose.  "Let me go!"

"Ky, please," Bridget pleaded, shifting from foot to foot in distress.  "I'm sorry—let's forget it, okay?  Let's go back to the ship."

"No!  None of you understand!"  Ky was finally able to rip his arm free, and he took several steps back, out of Johnny's range.  If the pirate tried to capture him again he was fully prepared to use all his force.  Johnny must have recognized as much, as he stayed still, his expression almost eerily calm.  "I have to," Ky repeated, his fists trembling at his sides until they ached.  "He knows something, and I must know what it is.  I won't leave until I do."

Ky's eyes danced to Testament, expecting some kind of admonishment from him, as well, but the Gear remained still.  His eyes were wide and distantly surprised, but there was also something softer in them.  Something like…understanding, and that justification only heightened Ky's determination.  He returned his firm glare to Johnny.  "I'm going."

"You're a damn fool," Johnny retorted.  He took a step forward, and it was as if his entire manner had changed.  Though Ky could no longer see his eyes behind the dark glasses there was a threat in the stern, downward curl of his lips, each methodical step.  "And you're not going.  I won't allow anyone to endanger my crew."

Ky retreated a step, his hand drifting to the hilt of his katana.  "I'm going."

Johnny was advancing on him in earnest now but Ky didn't back off a second time.  "That bastard and his fucked up robots could be on their way here right now," the pirate all but snarled.  "Every one of us here are their targets.  And if we wait for you to take your little field trip who knows how many he'll be able to gather!"  Johnny snatched the collar of Ky's vest, drawing him forward.  "You are _not_ going to endanger this ship!"

"I'm going!" Ky retorted strongly.  He was all but shaking now from too much emotion, and he pried ineffectively at Johnny's thick fingers.  "Damnit, I have to see Sol!"

"You damn fool, you'll just—"

"_I have to know if he's betrayed me again!_"

Johnny was so startled by the other's force that he let go, and Ky shoved him away before he could regain his senses.  The officer fell back, his eyes wide and pained.  He shook his head fiercely against the words he had spoken.  "I…I have to know," he panted, turning away from too many questioning stares.  "Sol warned me to stay away from the Bureau, the robots—he knew something was going to happen.  If he knew and didn't tell me…."  He trembled, too infected by his own injustice to allow for Johnny's rationale.  "If he knew our entire Order was in danger of being wiped out and he said nothing…."

It was too much.  Ky wheeled about to face the city once more, standing taller than he would have thought he had the strength for.  "I'm going."

"If you go," Johnny said evenly, "this ship will leave without you."

"Johnny—" Bridget started to protest.

Ky shook his head.  "Fine," he retorted.  "Go.  Maybe I was wrong to trust you all, anyway."

Bridget bit his lip, shivering a little as he tried to think of something more he could say, but Testament's hand fell heavily upon his shoulder.  He jumped a little and fell silent as both waited in anxious silence for the scene to play through.

Johnny snorted, tugging his sunglasses off at last.  "Damn fool," he muttered.  "You don't even know what you're up against."

Ky's back straightened, and again his common sense failed him beneath the weight of too many recent memories.  His fists tightened.  Slowly, he turned to glare at the man over his shoulder.  "But you do."

His tone was deadly, and even Johnny flinched a little as he stared back.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know something."  Ky faced the pirate squarely, rallying his courage once more.  He wasn't going to back down—not to anyone, for anything.  Not when the safety of his men, their very world and way of life, may depend on it.  "I've wondered about it for a while now, and that man in the alley only confirmed my suspicions."

"Oh?  Is that so?"

"Stop it, both of you!" Bridget tried again to interfere, pleading.  But neither of them was listening to him now, and he could only watch helplessly.

"You just happened to be flying over Genoa when I was injured," Ky began, gaining back a bit of his control.  His voice lost its manic edge, though within it there still burned the stern, justified malice of a soldier.  "It was enough of a coincidence that the robots were able to judge where I would land in that storm—that Testament would have chosen it as his shelter.  But the Jellyfish Pirates as well?"

"We were on our way to Rome," Johnny began to defend himself, but Ky interrupted him and continued.

"You knew immediately what the Bureau was up to.   All that talk about replacing the Global Police, defaming me—there is still no evidence of that, but you never considered that you may be wrong.  You knew about Author Galleon, and how to make the robot work when there's no way your adolescent crew could have subverted the security system of such a delicate machine."  Ky's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "And then you led us right to Rome, where our enemy was waiting for us.  He even knew I was with you."

Johnny continued to stare at him blankly.  Whether or not he was accepting Ky's accusations or found them too ridiculous to even be acknowledged, there was no telling by his face.  But there was anger focused in the taut muscles of his jaw and below his eyes, making his entire expression strained.  "Do you really believe all that?"

"And then there's May," Ky continued, stepping towards him.  "If I remember correctly, you've raised May since she was a child.  She's Japanese—in all that time, you must have realized what she was capable of."  Johnny's eyebrow twitched, encouraging Ky on.  "The Bureau is after Japanese, after Ki, and you know why.  You've always known why."

Something in Ky's words must have reached him at last, as Johnny's fingers began to curl stiffly in want of his sword.  The tension stretched, thick and tangible, between them, as if either might draw at any moment.  "Are you accusing me," the pirate aked stiffly, "of betraying my crew?"

"I don't know who you're working for," Ky admitted.  "But you know something.  There are only two people those robots were specified to kill—me and you.  Either it's a decoy to make you look innocent or maybe you're working for someone else, but either way it means you know something.  Something about May and the Japanese you haven't told us."

Johnny's hand shot out, and again the men were dragged together, glaring each other down.  "You don't know anything," Johnny growled, though they could all clearly detect the sudden desperation in his tone.  "Not about the Gears, about the Japanese—anything!"

"Because you haven't told me!" Ky retorted in kind, though his anger was focused—righteous, even.  Every gleam of the man's eyes was vindicating, and he was caught up in the flow of accusations and wrath.  "You've been hiding it from the start!  You know _exactly_ what they're after and what will happen when they get it!  You've been manipulating your own crew all along!"

Johnny's shoulders crept up, his face contorting in a look of rage such that Ky hadn't thought him capable of.  "How dare you!" he shouted.  "I've been—"

"You've already betrayed me," Ky continued thoughtlessly.  "Who's next?  Testament?  _May_?"

"_Shut up_!"

It happened too fast, and Ky was already too drawn into their verbal assaults to anticipate a real attack.  All at once he was spun about, his feet nearly leaving the earth as he was flung bodily into the hanger's plated metal door.  He managed only a thin gasp of surprise as the impact stole his breath and sent bright lights flashing across his eyes.  Dimly he was aware that his skull had struck hardest, that the scrape of bare skin against metal had drawn blood along his lower back.  His body, already drawn tight with stress, gave out.  With little more than a whimper and despite the groping of his hands, Ky sank gradually to his knees on the dusty airfield.

*****

"Ky…."  Bridget glanced between the pair, but with the sound of flesh striking metal Johnny seemed to have been shocked back to his senses.  He was breathing hard now, a vaguely guilty expression marring his features, but he didn't look about to move.  After a moment's hesitation Bridget scampered to Ky's side.  "Ky…."  He reached for Ky's shoulder.  "Are you—"

"Leave him," Johnny snorted overhead, and Bridget flinched, glancing up timidly.  The man's face had hardened once more, though it was still distantly troubled.  He turned back toward _Mayship_.  "We're leaving.  If Ky wants to go back into Rome, fine, but we won't be coming back for him."

"But John—"  Bridget shivered, looking between the pair with indecision: Johnny's tall, turned back, Ky gasping weakly in the dust….  "But I…."

So far Testament had watched the scene in silence.  He was admittedly stunned by the entire affair; Ky's almost crazed desperation, his accusations, and the wrath it had drawn from the characteristically calm and easy-going pirate.  Something had passed between them all, and though he wasn't sure how to sort out his own confusion, at present his eyes were drawn to Ky's slumped figure.  As Johnny passed he started forward, watching with some morbid fascination the tiny quakes of pain and bitterness sweeping through the fallen officer's flesh.  "Bridget."

Bridget stared up at him, revealing a young face just beginning to be marred with frightened tears.  Testament sighed.  "Go with Johnny," he instructed softly.  Though he wasn't sure what he was about to do, he knew he would lose his nerve with the boy there.  "Make sure he's all right, and let Dizzy know what happened.  She'll know what to do.  It's all right—I'll bring Ky."

Bridget nodded quietly, scrubbing at his face as he pushed shakily to his feet.  "All right."  He lifted a hand, and Testament offered his arm without thinking, allowing the boy to regain his balance before he trotted ahead to join his captain.

Once Bridget and Johnny had distanced themselves the Gear turned his attention back to his intended charge.  Ky had not yet moved, doubled over his knees and breathing hoarsely.  He wasn't sure at first what action to take—it had been much easier in Genoa, when the man was unconscious and needed no comforting words.  But he had already chosen this duty for himself, and he knelt down carefully beside the man.  "Ky.  Can you stand?"

Ky flinched away from him, but his defiance didn't last long.  "With help," he replied with resignation.

Testament didn't reply; he reached out, slipping his arm under and around Ky's to help tug him to his feet.  Ky groaned quietly but was able to hold his own weight, and after a moment he retrieved his arm.  Neither of them, however, moved to step away from each other just yet, and Testament was faced with another decision.  He frowned slightly.  "Now's your chance," he said quietly.  "You can try to look for Sol in the city, or come back to the ship."  Silently he prayed that Ky would choose the latter, as he wasn't sure what he himself might do otherwise.

Ky turned his head, taking in the city's outline once more.  His eyes were vague and his expression weary, and when nearly a full minute passed that way Testament realized he wasn't going to receive an answer.  That was fine with him; if Ky needed him to make the right decision for him, that, at least, he could do.

"Come on."  Testament gave Ky's arm a gentle tug, guiding his focus away from Rome.  "There's…something I want to show you."

Ky didn't reply for another long moment, but when Testament nudged him again he at last turned to follow.  They returned to the ship in silence, heads bowed as each considered the gravity of the evening's events.


	10. Chapter 9

*Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 9

There was a solemn air about _Mayship _when Ky and Testament returned, making their way through the narrow corridors.  Ky didn't speak a word, and, still holding his elbow, Testament was able to feel there was still a dull tremor that ran through his skin every once in a while.  The Gear was relieved that Ky didn't try to protest or question.  It made everything much simpler as he led the man to the infirmary.  On the way they passed one of the girls' rooms, and a quick peek inside showed Bridget, surrounded by three members of the crew as they listened to his story and tried to console him.  Further down they came across Dizzy and May, speaking in hushed tones.  Dizzy sent him a concerned look but he only nodded, assuring her that all was being taken care of.

In the infirmary Testament silently cleaned and bandaged the small wounds on Ky's back.  The result of metal against freshly healed burns wasn't pleasant to look at, and the area would certainly be tender for a while, but it didn't seem to be anything serious.  Nothing like the injuries he had treated Ky for several days ago.  Distantly he could hear the sound of the ship's engines being spurred into life, and soon after they were taking off.  Testament glanced only briefly to the porthole to watch Rome's airfield slipping away, and once they were fully airborne the city looked no more than a wide, black stain against darker earth.

"You said you wanted to show me something."

Testament turned back to Ky, judging his face.  He looked exhausted but there was still something sharp in his eyes, a familiar restlessness.  Though in truth he had expected simply to get Ky cleaned up and sent to bed, looking at him now he knew that wouldn't be enough.

"If you're up for it."  And when Ky nodded Testament helped him out of his chair, leading the way once more through the ship.

*****

Ky wasn't sure what to expect; he had assumed that Testament had only said as much as a means of getting him back on the ship, but now it appeared he had an actual destination in mind.  Whatever it was, he would have no complaints.  Anything was better than being left to his thoughts, as crazed and distorted as they now were.

He hadn't been paying attention, and when Ky blinked himself aware he found Testament was opening the hatches that led to the outer hull.  Though suddenly curious he didn't question, and soon they were both following a sturdy handrail to the ship's wing.  It had been set up as a sundeck of sorts, with plenty of rails to hold on to and even places that appeared to be for sitting.  It didn't seem to be the safest of places, but with all the designs and small drawings along the wing and hull it was clear people came here often.

"The girls come up here sometimes, especially to watch Johnny practice," Testament explained as he leaned against the forward rail.  "At least, that's what Dizzy tells me."  Rome was at their back now, but Ky allowed himself only a fleeting glance before joining the Gear.  The wind was forceful but he found he didn't have to hold on too tightly to keep himself upright and settled.

"I kind of like it, at night," Testament continued as he rested a single hand on the rail.  "The wind seems to go right through you; it has something of a calming effect on me."  He shook his head, the wind catching his hair and lifting it in long strands behind him.  Ky had to admit he understood immediately why such a place appealed to Testament; standing there against the night, his hair and leather clothing billowing with the breeze, his back straight despite the motion and face serene…he looked majestic, maybe even beautiful.  But most of all the wind, the rustle of fabric and the dull whine from the engines were indeed calming in their low monotony.  Ky sighed, allowing it all in, hoping Testament's words would prove true and resettle his twisting insides.

They remained that way for some time, side by side but saying nothing as _Mayship_ adjusted her course to the west.   It was Ky who finally broke the silence.  "I was wrong, wasn't I.  About everything."

He felt Testament's gaze slip to him but he didn't look, keeping his eyes trained to where distant hills melted into the starless night.  "I don't know," the Gear admitted.  "Everything you said…it is suspicious, and he didn't try to argue.  But you're wrong about him and this ship.  I don't think he would ever betray these children."

"No…"  Ky lowered his head guilty.  "No, I don't think so, either.  I just…had to say something."  His fists tightened around the railing.  "I don't know why.  That…wasn't like me at all.  At least…."

"You hope it's not."

Ky sighed.  It was both comforting and a little disheartening that Testament seemed to understand what he was feeling so well—it led to even more questions in need of answers.  "Testament…do you think me a fool?  Johnny and Bridget didn't understand, but you…"  He risked a glance at the Gear, and was encouraged by his calm, thoughtful expression.  "You understand, don't you?  Why I…."

"Not entirely," Testament admitted.  "I don't know what happened between you and Sol, but…yes.  Maybe if I'd had your conviction, I would have chased after The Ninth in the same way."

Ky blinked up at him questioningly.  "The Ninth?"

Testament straightened, as if realizing all at once that he'd spoken the name aloud.  It was then that Ky started to understand how similar he and Testament really were; the look of anxious strain flashing across the Gear's face was all too familiar to him.  "The man we faced," he confessed at long last.  "I met him…during the Crusades.  I only knew him as The Ninth—ninth out of fifteen Anti-Gear weapons the Bureau was developing."

"I see."  Though not the most detailed explanation, Testament's reaction to the man made much more sense; as one of the Bureau's weapons he had probably been made to hunt Testament.  It wasn't quite as similar a situation to him and Sol as he had been hoping to hear, but still he understood the kind of intensity that would have passed through such a relationship.

"Sol…."  Ky gulped, pressing his eyes shut against images of the man.  "Whenever he shows up I'm not myself anymore.  It's…embarrassing."

Testament considered that a moment, shifting his weight.  "Can you tell me?"

He had been waiting for that.  With the city at their back the story was already so heavy on his lips, and that quiet prodding was what he needed to let it all spill out, as if it were lying ready all along.  "Did you know Sol used to be in the Holy Order?" he began, so grateful that Testament was willing to listen that he couldn't find the words to thank him.  He wasn't even sure if he cared Testament heard him, so much as allowed him the chance to speak.  "It was just after I was Knighted as their Captain."  

Testament hummed thoughtfully beside him.  "I'd heard rumors."

"He was probably the worst soldier that ever served under me," Ky continued with a tiny snort.  "He'd never listen to orders, was always going off alone—he never treated me or any of the other officers with respect."  He smirked bitterly.  "And somehow he always managed to get the job done.  He'd run off by himself and come back without a scratch when the mission was over.  Sometimes we weren't even sure if he'd done anything.  But even if we didn't see him he never lost a fight."

Ky lifted his head slightly, taking Testament's earlier advice in letting the wind wash over him, through him.  "I have to admit, I was a little awed by him myself.  There was always a sense among the soldiers—or maybe just a joke—that whatever happened, Sol would somehow screw up and end up saving us.  I sometimes imagined that if I were able to tame that recklessness of his…maybe it would prove my abilities as their leader.  I was so young and uncertain then, but I knew that if I could get Sol on my side—for real—it would prove to everyone, and myself, that I really was the Captain of the Holy Order.

"But I was never enough to handle him."  Ky's fingers tighten subtly against the metal rail.  "Sol never let anyone close to him, never put effort into any of our drills or practices.  And because no one ever really saw him complete a mission, I couldn't trust that he was as powerful as his boasts.  At first I thought he was putting up an attitude to impress the younger soldiers—later, that he simply had a problem with taking orders, and especially from me.  Either way, I never trusted him completely as one of our officers.  If only I'd known how strong he really was…if I'd been able to tell…."

Testament shifted slightly beside him.  "Are you saying that if you'd known how powerful he was, you would have let him get away with disrespect?"

Ky scoffed quietly.  "No.  Probably not.  But at least then I would have known what he was capable of—that I could trust him."

Testament was silent a moment, considering.  "It's not surprising," he murmured.  "If he had shown you all his full power, you probably would have started to suspect."

The hair on the back of Ky's neck prickled.  "Suspect…?"

"Trust him less," Testament quickly corrected himself, as if having given something away.  "So what happened?"

Ky frowned, but followed Testament's prodding.  He would have plenty to worry about after his story had finished.  "He left."  The words clawed through him bitterly, and he quickly forgot whatever Testament had been implying a moment ago.  "It wasn't long after we fought together to save the people of Rome.  Without a word he took Fireseal and abandoned us."  His hands tightened again and began to ache, but he gave them no notice.  "I knew he didn't like our ways, our discipline, but he didn't need to turn his back on us!  Even if he couldn't accept me as his captain, I could have been replaced.  Did he hate us that much that he couldn't bare to stand beside us, even for the sake of our world?"

"Ky…."

"I didn't see him for another two years after that," Ky continued, his voice sharp.  "We lost countless men to the attacks of the Gears, and not once did he lift a hand to help us.  Even when we rallied all our power for the final battle against Justice itself, it wasn't until the end when half our men had been slaughtered that he finally showed.  It wasn't until then that…I really understood."

In his mind's eye, he could still see it; the poisoned debris, bloodstained stones and streaking lightning—the form of Justice towering over them, flicking claws to rid them of wasted human life.  He remembered the blow to his skull that had felled him, the heat that woke him some time later to find his former master bloodied, and Justice enveloped in flame.  There was nothing more vivid in his memory than the silhouette of a tall figure against swirling, ungodly fire.

"Sol is more powerful than anything I've ever encountered.  I don't know how he came to be that way…why he didn't challenge Justice before that night…but I do know that he hid all those things from us."  Ky took in a long, deep breath.  "More than that, I misjudged him.  We needed him.  If I had known how powerful he was, I could have formed a better strategy for dealing with Justice that would not have cost the lives of so many innocent soldiers.  I would have forgone some of my own pride, if only to keep him with us for that purpose.  We struggled those two years when only one bit of knowledge could have brought us salvation.  Two years over the span of a hundred year crusade is indeed a short time, and yet…so many lives…."

"Ky," Testament interrupted him at last.  "I understand how it must frustrate you, but even if you chase Sol to the ends of the earth he may never tell you why he did it.  There's no point in endangering yourself for a truth that isn't there."

"But still…!"  Ky shook his head stubbornly.  "I don't need to know why.  No motive would ever excuse him—he abandoned us when we needed him the most, most likely for the sake of his damned pride.  But if I can't know the truth…I'll at least know how strong he is."  His eyes narrowed dangerously on the horizon as if he could see the man there, challenging him.  "He said I was weak.  That I had no business leading soldiers against demons like Justice.  Whatever his strength is, he risked all our lives and the peace of our world to keep it from me, and I won't be satisfied until I've seen it for myself.  Until he's recognized me as worthy of fighting me at his best."

A hand fell over the back of his knuckles, and he jumped slightly, torn from his thoughts.  It was then that he realized how tightly he had been gripping the rail; his knuckles were white and fingers trembling.

"That's enough," Testament said quietly, drawing his hand back.  

Slowly, Ky unwound his own hand, stretching it to relieve the tension in its joints.  He sighed.  "I'm sorry," he murmured.  "I'm getting carried away."  This time he leaned forward, folding his arms over the railing to steady him and avoid risking his hands again.  "But that's why I have to see him again.  Especially now…he's hiding something else from me, and I won't let him risk innocent lives for his selfish whims."

A long silence passed between the pair, and Ky felt the wind gradually beginning to rid the heated anger and injustice from him.  It left him feeling…raw, split open like a wound, to have admitted so much so openly to a Gear.  A Gear….  He sighed.  "Thank you for listening.  I know it must seem terribly foolish to you."

"Not really."  Testament turned his gaze forward as well.  "It was a time of war—many of us experienced betrayal and grief, from those…we thought we could depend on.  I'm sure even Johnny and Bridget would understand why you reacted that way, if you were to explain it to them."

Ky frowned, uneasiness settling in his stomach.  "Testament…I am sorry.  I shouldn't be going on about the war, when you…."  He licked his lips.  "I don't blame you, for whatever you might have—"

"Don't," Testament interrupted him.  "We already agreed not to hate each other; that's enough for me."

Ky relaxed, relieved; it hadn't been his intention to burden Testament with all his bitter memories and accusations.  "I'm glad," he murmured.  And then a little louder, "In any case, I appreciate you listening to my long-winded story.  It was good, to be able to tell someone."

"I understand."

Ky glanced behind him, catching a glimpse of the hatch they'd exited from.  "I think I'll be going to bed now.  It's…been a long day."  

Testament nodded vaguely.  "I think I'll stay a bit longer.  I'll try not to wake you when I come in."

Ky nodded back.   Before stepping away, however, he reached out, setting a hand over Testament's on the railing.  The Gear sent him a questioning gaze and he managed a faint smile in return, hoping that small gesture would be enough to convey his appreciation for all Testament's help that evening.  "Goodnight, then."

Testament stared at him, blinking, and turned his hand slightly to give Ky's a slight squeeze.  "Sleep well."

"Thank you."  At last Ky pulled back, hesitating only a moment more before turning to follow the rail back to the hull.  Though he was indeed exhausted, he suddenly felt clearer than he had in several days.  It had been years, probably, since he had told anyone about his history with Sol, and yet now he had found someone who not only accepted his explanations, but also understood.  As he reached the hatch that led inside he glanced back, watching Testament silently for a moment.  He really was an impressive figure, black leather against pale skin, every part of him perfectly proportioned and graceful—the kind of perfection that only a Gear possessed, and yet Ky wasn't as troubled by it now as he might have once been.

The officer smiled as he turned once more, letting himself in so he could seek peace for the night.

*****

When Bridget was finished telling his story to the other girls, not to mention receiving their reassurances, he made his way towards the room he shared.  His steps were hesitant and heavy; though he had seen Ky and Testament pass earlier no one knew where they were or what had passed between them.  If they were in the room talking, he dared not interrupt no matter his concern.  Even if he wasn't sure what Testament could offer in the way of comfort, he knew at the moment he could have done no better.  The confrontation had left him feeling uneasy, and he had no idea how to face Ky.  Especially since it had been his raised information that caused the fight….

"Ky…."  Bridget paused with his hand poised on the doorknob to their room.  Though he could hear no sound echoing back from the room he was still almost ill with worry, and for nearly a full minute he stood there motionless.  Something like this should not have affected him so deeply.  He was used to raised voices and turned backs—more importantly, Ky had not left.  There was no reason left for this uncertainty.

At last Bridget let himself inside, twisting the door open with slow caution.  With no response immediately following he peeked his head inside, and was filled with relief to find Ky in bed.  He crept, mouse-like, into the room.  "Ky…?"  When the man did not respond to his whispered greeting he was certain he was asleep, allowing him to approach closer for a good look.

Ky looked peaceful, more so than on the previous occasions Bridget had seen him, flopped on his stomach with one arm hanging easily off the edge of the bed.  His back had been bandaged and only his vest and armlets removed.  Bridget crouched beside him for some time, just watching his slow intake of breath, assuring himself that everything was well.  With a slight smile he gently urged the man's arm back to the mattress, tugged the blankets a little higher up his back.  And after a moment's contemplation he leaned forward, pressing a faint kiss to the man's cheek.  "Don't go anywhere, Ky."

Ky shifted slightly but did not wake, and, satisfied, Bridget pulled back to head for his own bunk.  He was a little concerned when he noticed Testament's bed was empty, and his heart skipped with the memories of their conversation the night before.  But the ship had taken flight just after everyone was aboard, and if Testament really had been the one to look after Ky there would not have been time for him to leave the ship as he'd stated.  Reassuring himself once more Bridget pulled himself up to his bunk, relieving himself only of his iron belt before wriggling beneath warm covers and falling asleep.

*****

Johnny felt like shit.  The events of the evening had taken their toll on him, and if anything was worse than that tension and uncertainty it was listening to May pace back and forth in front of the door to his room.  She'd been at it for a while now, probably working up the courage to ask him in person about what had happened in the city.  He felt both relieved and guilty that the stern expression he'd given her on the way in would probably keep her at bay for a while.  Maybe just long enough for him to come up with an explanation.

"What a mess."  

Johnny shed his hat and glasses, tossing them lightly onto the bed where he'd left his coat earlier.  He was just taking the tie out of his hair when the hall outside his door went abruptly silent.  He tensed, hands still tangled in strands of blonde as he waited for her to try the door.  It was times like these that he almost wished he'd invested in door locks.  When nearly a full minute passed he started to relax, but as he should have expected it was just then that the door opened a crack.  "Johnny…?"

Johnny sighed, sagging back in his chair.  "Come in," he called as he finished unwinding his hair from the band holding it.

He wasn't sure whether to be thankful or concerned when the girl who slipped inside was Dizzy and not May.  Softly she closed the door behind her.  "Are you all right?"

Johnny blinked at her; he hadn't been expecting a question like that right out.  "Yeah…"  He passed a hand back through his hair, rubbing at his scalp.  "Yeah, I'm all right."

Dizzy came forward slowly, her manner quiet and without accusation.  "May went back to her room."

"Did she?"  He relaxed a little.

"She was kind of shaken, though.  She said she's never seen you like this."

"Yeah, well, I'm not so thrilled with me, either."

Dizzy frowned slightly but continued forward nonetheless, stopping just in front of Johnny's chair.  He risked a glance at her face, feeling somewhat akin to a schoolboy about to be scolded.  But she was only watching him, lips arranged in a gentle, grim smile.  "Bridget told me everything."

"Is…"  Johnny snorted, leaning his elbow against his desk so he could rest his chin on it.  "Is the kid okay?"

"I think so.  Testament is looking after him."

"Huh, no kidding."

"Johnny."  Dizzy tilted her head to the side so she could better see him.  "Are you really all right?"

Johnny kept his gaze carefully trained away from her as he considered her question a bit more seriously this time.  "He told you everything, huh?" he said, his tone dropping a bit.  His eyes lost their focus as he replayed those short moments.  "You know…he wasn't completely wrong, that damn Ky.  There's a lot I haven't told him.  Any of you."

It hurt, deeper than he would have liked to admit, to confess such things to her.  To think that all these years, and May, who had more of a right to know than anyone, still knew so little….  "He could be right," Johnny continued vaguely.  "Maybe by not telling you all…I'm only putting you in danger."

Dizzy's hand alighted softly on the side of his face, and Johnny glanced up.  She was smiling, same as before, her eyes sincere.  Without a word she swiped her thumb along the tiny healing wound that crossed his temple—gained from the robots the day before.  A warm tingle spread through the flesh as it knit flawlessly together once more without leaving a scar.

"Everyone on this ship believes in you, Johnny," Dizzy assured, brushing back a few loose strands of his hair.  "And if there's something you haven't told us, we trust you to know what's best.  May more than anyone.  So don't worry about us; we trust you."

"Dizzy…."  Johnny sighed around a quiet smile, lifting his chin off his hand.  "Thanks, Mom," he teased.

Dizzy chuckled, moving around the side of his chair so she could stand closer.  It only took a subtle prodding and Johnny leaned forward, allowing her to draw him against her.  She wrapped an arm lightly around his broad shoulders to keep him close, as he finally was able to exhale the rest of his tensions out of him.

"April asked me to get a set of coordinates from you," Dizzy confessed.  "Where should I tell her we're going?"

"Home," Johnny replied without hesitation.  He smiled grimly as he closed his eyes.  "I think it's just about time we took these girls home."


	11. Chapter 10

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

I'd just like to thank everyone again for your continued reviews—I'm glad you're liking the fic.  This chapter is a bit less eventful than the last two chapters, but I really wanted to set up the location, as they're going to be there for a while.  I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner, to make up for it ^^

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 10

Ky awoke early the next morning when the dull hum of _Mayship_'s engines changed their tone.  He blinked his eyes open, and carefully stretched; his back had returned to being sore after the blow he'd received the night before, and now his head was throbbing as well.  He rubbed at it lightly as he twisted onto his side.  There was bump from where he'd struck the hanger, but he'd had worse.

His eyes wandered to the porthole, wondering at the time, and when he followed the pale morning sunlight he found himself watching Testament.  The Gear was just pulling a black silk shirt over his broad shoulders.  It seemed to fit him better than the one he had seen him in before.  Ky smiled slightly, oddly comforted by his presence there after the night before.  "Are we landing?"

Testament glanced over his shoulder, looking a little embarrassed as he quickly did up the buttons of his shirt.  "Yes.  We're somewhere west of Rome—I'm not sure where, but everyone seems excited about it.  I'm supposed to tell you to 'dress appropriately'."

Ky frowned slightly, but when he started to shift again his feet bumped against something soft at the foot of his bed.  A quick investigation showed it was a pair of khaki pants, a white button-down shirt, fresh underwear, and a pair of strapped sandals.  Resting atop the neat pile was a note in adorable cursive that read: "I bought these for you in Rome, too.  I hope they fit."

"Did Bridget do this?" Ky asked, drawing his fingertips over the soft fabric of the shirt.  He was suddenly very eager to get himself in normal clothes again, and he quickly slipped his arms into the sleeves.

"Yes," Testament replied as he finished dressing.  "He's pretty good at matching sizes, too."  He ran a hand down the front of his shirt.  "It fits a lot better than Johnny's did."

"I'm sure."  Ky smiled as he buttoned his own shirt, a tiny sigh of relief falling from his lips.  Though he hadn't minded the leather all that much while they were in Rome, he was beginning to realize how much he had missed cotton, and his uniform.  "I'll have to thank Bridget when I see him.  And…apologize, for last night."

Testament nodded faintly, combing his hair briefly with his fingers before heading for the door.  "I'll let you finish getting dressed."

"Thank you."  Once he had left Ky set upon changing the rest of his clothing.  Already he felt more like himself, and even if his hair was still the same brown his reflection pleased him.  Though he wasn't usually one to care about his appearance it kept him from thinking back on touchier subjects.

Eventually, his curiosity at where they were landing overrode his memories, anyway.  The ship touched down just as he was heading for the door, and he had to steady himself a moment against the bed frame as he was jostled.  Once they'd halted he quickly followed the sound of chattering voices to the ship's starboard hull.  By the time he reached them the crew had piled outside; he could hear the girl's excited cheering, louder than he thought such a small crew could generate, mixed with Johnny's deep laughter.  Frowning, Ky investigated.

The ship had landed on a small airstrip of thick grass, outside what appeared to be a small, sleepy town.  It was still quite early in the morning—there was still fog clinging to the earth, misting the view of low, distant mountains and sparse greenery.  The smell of salt water was heavy in the air as Ky stepped outside the ship, clinging to his nostrils and making his back tingle.  He only had a few moments to take it in; the officer's attention was swiftly drawn to the commotion in the grass in front of him.

There were, as far as Ky could estimate, a good thirty or so girls swarming about just outside the ship.  Some were familiar to him as members of the crew, but most of them were not—young girls no more than eight or nine, several more than twice that age; even a few boys dotted the crowd as they mixed together, laughing and passing greetings.  As Ky watched in unmoving bewilderment one of the groups churned, girls giggling as Johnny pushed to his feet with several of them clinging to his arms and back.  Only one girl, however—a young red-head that could not have been older than five or six—had the privilege of riding on his shoulders, and she squealed in delight.

He spotted Bridget among them a moment later; the boy had a crew-member on each arm, in the process of being introduced around.  Despite how enthusiastic Bridget had always been, Ky had never seen him quite so excited and happy.  He was debating what to do himself when he realized Testament and Dizzy were standing beside him.  "What is this place?"

"It's their home," Dizzy replied with a fond smile as she watched the playful antics.  "I'm sure Johnny can explain it better, but they brought me here when I first joined the crew.  They're all the orphans Johnny's picked up during his travels."

"Orphans…?"  Ky looked again, feeling something like guilt crawling into the pit of his stomach.  He knew immediately that Dizzy was telling the truth; the girls crowded around Johnny were watching him with awe and affection, and as he made their way through them he greeted them with the same.  This was a reunion of family, and Ky almost wanted to glance away from something so intimate.  More than that, he was painfully reminded of his accusations the night before, and how ridiculous they now seemed.

"They look…pretty happy.  For orphans."

Ky glanced up at Testament's remark, frowning thoughtfully.  The Gear had an odd look on his face; it seemed to be a mix of wonder and almost trepidation, his eyes sliding from each child as if expecting something special to occur that he didn't want to miss.  It was almost charming to think that, after everything Ky had witnessed on the ship, Testament was still shy around children.  He had to admit, however, that he shared some of that subtle uncertainty.  If these girls were companions to pirates, there was no knowing how they might react to a police officer, let alone a Gear like Testament.

"Tes!"  The youngest of Testament's assigned hair-brushers came rushing toward them suddenly, her eyes bright with excitement as she all but pounced on the Gear's arm.  He stared down at her blankly.  "Come on—I want you to meet everyone."

Testament blinked, as if not quite understanding, and when she tugged him at first he didn't move.  It wasn't until Dizzy giggled, urging him on, that he allowed the girl to lead him a step.  He glanced back, and Ky couldn't help but chuckle at his helpless face.

"Go on," he urged.

Testament frowned at him, clearly dubious, but there was a certain light behind his eyes Ky hadn't seen before.  At last he nodded to the little girl and followed her into the fray of youths.

Ky sighed quietly, watching as Testament was shown off to some of the younger girls.  He could see a few of the elders—especially the boys—eyeing the Gear with concern, but over all they seemed to be receiving him well.  Most of that was probably the doing of his youthful and eager companion.

"Aren't you going, too?" Dizzy questioned at his side.

Ky shook his head.  "Not yet.  If this is their special reunion…I don't have any right to interrupt."  His eyes slipped to Johnny, and he pursed his lips.  "Besides, Johnny and I…well…."

"It's all right," Dizzy quickly assured.  "He understands."

Ky nodded vaguely, taking a moment to better get his bearings and take in the scenery.  He didn't recognize any of the architecture here, nor the small, lazy town bordering the airstrip they had landed upon.  A few of the townspeople, however, had gathered nearby to wave and call greetings of their own.  It felt like a welcoming of heroes, almost, and Ky smiled faintly with nostalgia.  He remembered a time when his own Holy Order had once been celebrated with such praise.

The officer's eyes were drawn again to Johnny when he noticed him speaking to a longhaired stranger.  It was a man, shorter than him but seemingly of the same age, dressed in long baggy pants and loose-fitting, robe-like top, both of the same pale blue.  His thick black hair had been secured in a somewhat sloppy braid that trailed down his back; it reminded Ky of the work that had been done on Testament's hair.  It wasn't until Johnny nodded back at Ky, and the stranger turned to look, that he realized the man was Asian.  His face was somewhat long but there was no mistaking the tone of his skin, the almond shape of his dark eyes.

The stranger approached with a kind smile, and before Ky could begin to wonder who he might be Dizzy stepped past him.  "Youn—it's good to see you," she declared warmly, and the man spread his arms to welcome her in a firm embrace.

"Dizzy, I'm glad to see you well."

"You, too.  How is everyone?"

The man chuckled.  "As lively as ever."  He pulled back slightly so he could see Ky, and he nodded a more formal greeting.  "And you must be Sir Kiske."

Ky was a little surprised at first; he had thought maybe his dyed hair would keep him from being recognized right away, but then realized that Johnny probably had warned them ahead of time of their coming.  "Yes, that's right," he greeted, offering his hand.  "Ky Kiske."

"Ahn Youn," the man introduced himself as Dizzy stepped back, shaking Ky's hand.  "I was a little surprised to hear you were coming, but you are welcome here."

"I appreciate that."  Ky glanced at Johnny, but the man was moving away towards the back of the ship, surrounded by his crew and the other children—Bridget and Testament among them.  "So, Johnny told you about me, then."

"Yes.  I'm very sorry to hear what you've been through."  Youn's voice was deep and smooth, almost parental-sounding with its rich, mature tone.  It reminded Ky suddenly of his old schoolmaster as a boy and relaxed him almost instantly.  "I hope you don't mind, but I also told the children.  They reacted to the news fairly well, but perhaps you'd best ride with me on the way to the House."

Ky frowned slightly as he tried to puzzle out the meaning of those words.  "Oh.  Yes, of course.  If you think it best."

"Thank you."  Youn turned to Dizzy with a smile.  "Why don't you go help them for a bit while I speak to Sir Kiske?"

"Yes, of course."  Dizzy nodded to them both before slipping away to join the others.

Ky watched her, his mind beginning to spin with more questions.  Though it warmed him somehow hearing himself addressed as "sir" once more, there seemed to be something reserved behind Youn's pleasant tone.  He didn't understand until he caught the glance of one of the elder boys watching him.  There was something sharp, almost fearful in his eyes, and when Ky glanced about he caught several of the other children sneaking similar glances at him.  They all turned quickly away once he'd spotted them.  It was puzzling, and sobering, to think that these youths for some reason feared him; were uncertain of a police officer when a pair of Gears walked easily among them….

Youn must have noticed his stare, for a gentle hand came down on his shoulder, drawing his attention back.  "Please don't be upset by it," he said softly.  "You must understand, we are all the accomplices of the Jellyfish Pirates.  When they heard a police officer was coming—the head of the police—they were afraid it might be to make arrests."

"These are all…."  Ky frowned at the group as _Mayship_'s belly was opened, allowing for them to begin unloading the piles of supplies.  "You're all pirates?"

Youn chuckled.  "In a manner of speaking.  Come walk with me, Sir Kiske.  There is a lot to explain."

*****

Bridget couldn't stop grinning as he scampered into _Mayship_'s cargo hold, several of the crewmembers on his heels as well as a few of the boys.  There were kids everywhere—some his age, some older, some younger—and he hadn't been around this many at once in a long time.  At least, not so many that would greet him with such enthusiasm and acceptance.  All he'd needed to say was that he was a new member of the Jellyfish Pirates and already another two dozen friends had been added to his growing list.  All around there was laughter, and relief, and excitement, and he was part of those at the center.  It left him so happy that if there hadn't been work for him to do, he might have rolled across the grass giggling like an idiot.

For now, however, he and a young blonde named Zinnia were hefting a large crate between them, carrying it down the few short steps to begin a pile outside of the plane.

"They'll bring the trucks around in a second," Zinnia explained, huffing, as they set the box down and went for a second.  "Then we take them down to the House.  It'll be your first time, right?  It's really great."

"Really?"  Thoroughly excited, Bridget raced him back into the ship, where Testament was amazing the younger children with his strength by carrying two of the crates by himself.  Bridget giggled, and when he noticed Zinnia eyeing the Gear with some concern he thumped him on the back.  "Don't make that face.  Testament's great—he's a good Gear now."

"If you say so."  They selected a second crate, half dragging it towards the slowly growing pile as everyone bustled in and out.  It wasn't until they were on their way to their forth that Zinnia asked, "Was that really Ky Kiske back there?"

"Hm?  Oh, yeah."  Bridget smiled shyly. "He's something, isn't he?"

"He looked kinda shrimpy."

Bridget stuck his tongue out at the boy.  "What do you know?  He's even tougher than Johnny."

Though he expected Zinnia to retort with something akin to "is not," one of Bridget's favorite verbal exercises, a look of apprehension spread over the boy's face, and a few faces bearing the same turned toward them.  "Don't worry!" Bridget quickly assured as he bent down for another box.  "He's here…on vacation.  He's not gonna arrest anyone.  He's…uh…a good cop."

Zinnia didn't look convinced as he helped Bridget lift.  "If you say so."

Bridget pouted, but there didn't seem to be any way to convince them just yet, and he didn't want to alienate all his new friends.  He did, though, feel bad for Ky, having to wake up to this mistrust after everything that had occurred the night before.  Vowing to make it up to the officer later he devoted himself to his work with great zeal, determined to give everyone the best impression of him as possible.

*****

"We're just north of Alghero, on the island of Sardinia off Italy's western coast," Youn began to explain as he and Ky made their way across the airfield to where two very large, magic-powered flat-bed trucks had been parked.  "If you've never heard of it, that's good news for us."  He chuckled lightly as he climbed behind the driver's seat of one of the trucks, Ky taking his place beside him.  "It's not a very large island, but we appointed a Duke just a few years ago, and we're quite satisfied with remaining unknown to the rest of the world."

Ky nodded thoughtfully.  Honestly he had never heard of Sardinia, though admittedly this region of Europe was often overlooked by the United Nations unless there was some need for reconstruction or aid.  But there seemed to be no evidence of Gear attacks here, none of the rubble and solemnity that blanketed most of Italy itself.  "So you're not recognized by the United Nations as a full country," he surmised.

"No, we're not."  Youn started the truck up and drove it around to the back of the plane where supplies were being busily unloaded and arranged.  "Before the Crusades, Sardinia was almost always under the rule of some other country, mostly Italy.  During the wars it was kind of forgotten—this is a simple place, and it isn't able to produce anything especially helpful to a war effort.  When Italy was more or less destroyed by the Gears, we were left on our own."  He smiled ironically.  "My grandfather fled Korea during all the attacks on Japan at the beginning of the war.  This place was small, out of the way—there was no reason for Gears to come here.  But even when they did reach this region, we were lucky and were overlooked.  My family has lived here peacefully ever since."

"You've been living autonomously, then."  It seemed strange, to think that a place like this, not only untouched by Gears but beautiful, could go unseen for this long.  He wondered briefly if even his superiors knew of its existence.  "That must be difficult, if you're not engaging in trade with foreign nations."

"You'd think that," Youn said with a smile.  "But the truth is this island can pretty much support itself.  Our population is low and mostly consists of natives.  We have fields for growing wheat, plains for raising cattle, and plenty of coastlines for fishing.  Though we do have to import a lot of fruit and vegetables, we do so mostly through Rome, so as to not attract attention.  That, and we especially receive a lot of aid from the Jellyfish Pirates," he added.

Despite their youth, the children worked diligently in loading the trucks, and soon enough the small caravan was rumbling slowly down a twisted dirt road toward the ocean.  The youths trotted alongside the vehicles, laughing and joking to one another.  Youn paused in his explanations so that Ky would be able to take in the view, to his appreciation; he was startled by how beautiful the countryside was, considering this was an island he'd never heard of.  The area they were in was at a low elevation, dotted with sparse forestry and a clear view of the coast stretching west and south for miles.  But to the north Ky could just barely see the outlines of rounded mountains and sheer cliff sides, and to the south an impressive harbor of tall-masted sailboats.  As they neared the beach he was granted a spectacular view of sparkling ocean, a rich blue-green in the early morning, waves cresting gently against a shoreline of golden sand.

"I didn't know," Ky said quietly, "that places like this still existed."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"  Youn pointed out his window for Ky to look.  "There's the House."

The House, as it seemed to be called, was nothing like Ky had imagined—not for an orphanage, certainly.  The building was at least four stories tall, stretching down the coastline in a subtle curve.  There were tiled roofs, wide pale arches, balconies with black lacquered bars, sun umbrellas and gardens; everything was grand and welcoming, and when they pulled into a bricked courtyard he finally understood why its exterior was so lavish.  "This is…a hotel?"

"Used to be," Youn corrected, leading them to the side of the large building to what appeared to be a large storage house.  "When tourism dried up and the place went bankrupt, Johnny and I…kind of helped ourselves."  He stopped the truck and slipped out, Ky following.  "Come on, I'll give you a tour."

There were even more children waiting at the House for their arrival, and as soon as the trucks had halted Johnny led them all in another effort to move and arrange the incoming supplies.  Ky by now was feeling somewhat guilty in that he wasn't aiding them, until he realized that most of the packages being unloaded with such care were most likely stolen goods.  He wasn't sure what to make of it as Youn led him around to a side door to the House, taking him inside.

"I first met Johnny when a plane he was on crashed here, almost ten years ago," Youn resumed his story telling.  "He had May with him, then, and they were the only ones that survived the crash.  My family cared for them and sent them off.  A few months later he showed up here again, this time with some orphans he'd found in the aftermath of a Gear attack.  We agreed to take care of them.  A while later he came back with more."  Youn chuckled with the memory as he led Ky though the lobby, which now seemed to have been converted into a play and study area.  There were toys, books, and games strewn everywhere, a few TVs, even workout equipment in the corners.  "Eventually there got to be so many we took over this abandoned hotel.  Everything seemed to work out perfectly; the dining room and the kitchen were already connected so it was easy to prepare large meals, and we converted the activities hall into one large sleeping area."

Youn opened a large set of double doors, revealing a wide room with a wooden floor and tall ceiling, white walls lined with arching windows and cabinet after cabinet.  Nearly the entire floor space was covered in mattresses and strewn blankets—like on gigantic bed pieced together.  Ky was admittedly baffled.  "Doesn't that get uncomfortable?" he questioned.

"This is mostly for the younger children," Youn admitted.  "There are plenty of rooms, but nearly all of the children here were either orphaned or abandoned; the youngest of them don't like to be separated from everyone for very long, if at all, so it was easier to keep them all together.  The hotel rooms are used by the older kids and some of the townspeople that volunteer here as staff.  Though many of the children we've raised have moved on by now—living in the city, some of them send money or toys back to us as they can afford."

"I see."  Ky let his eyes drift over the scene a while, contemplating silently.  He could see a few mounds among the piled blankets, doubtlessly children who had not been able to wake themselves in time to see Johnny's arrival.  A teenage girl was watching over them with one such youngster clinging to her sleep shirt; the child could not have been more than five years old.  Ky's heart ached a moment in sympathy, but he soon realized that the young boy appeared content.  He was surrounded by peers, cared for and adored by men like Johnny and Youn.  In his work Ky had seen many orphanages, but no other cared for with such diligence and effort, such honest, selfless affection.

The officer stepped outside the sleeping room once more, gathering Youn's attention to him.  "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked quietly.  Bridget and Testament were just as new to this place as he, and yet neither of them had been pulled especially aside for a tour and explanation.

"Because I want you to like this place," Youn replied honestly, meeting Ky's gaze.  "We can't stay hidden here for long, and when the United Nations finally takes notice of us it's likely Sardinia will fall again under the control of another country."  His voice lowered slightly.  "We've been trying to build up our own government—a democracy, that will allow us to ask that we be accepted as an independent nation.  We're even trying to cut back on how much we depend on Johnny for his piracy.  But we need time.  If you were to report back to your superiors about us, all the freedom and independence we've been struggling to achieve could be lost.  That's why we desperately need you to understand our situation."

Ky lowered his eyes as he considered these words.  He did not want to believe that the government he so lauded and believed in could be such that it would take away a people's freedom, but he was beginning to realize that his old ways of thinking might no longer apply.  He had been naïve in the past, as was proof in his even being in this situation.  The Gears he had once hated and slaughtered had saved his life.  The pirates who he had once shunned and hunted had supported and hidden him from his betrayers.  The order he had once believed in was conspiring against him and innocent people.  It was foolish to even trust in his judgment anymore.  He had been wrong about everything.  

But Youn needed an answer, and with a quiet sigh he nodded.  "I cannot lie outright to my superiors, but I will keep your secret as long as I can," he said.  "And when the time comes, I will vouch for your and your people.  I don't want to see anything happen to this place."

Youn smiled only faintly, but with such gratitude as Ky rarely saw in a man.  "Thank you, Sir Kiske."

Youn excused himself then under the explanation of checking on the progress of breakfast.  Ky lingered a moment longer.  He moved through the hall to one of the balconies overlooking the beach—it had been a long time since he'd had the chance to enjoy the ocean, its sheer size and majesty….  And he bowed his head, hands clasped in humble prayer for the first time in many days.


	12. Chapter 11

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 11

At last all the supplies collected by the Jellyfish pirates had been sorted and stored, and all at once the dozens of youths stampeded into the dining room for a well-deserved brunch.  Ky didn't eat much, seated near the back of the room as he watched the lively antics spreading from table to table.  Testament was proving to be quite the center of attention, and Bridget as well; he was happy for them both to have been so readily accepted, and relieved that the anxious stares in his direction had ceased.  He was fairly certain the Youn had given some signal to the children to indicate his negotiations had been successful, and that was the reason now for their hospitality towards him during the meal.  The food was simple but refreshing, and soon everyone was clamoring outside again, eager to engage in that day's activities.

By then, Ky was feeling somewhat dazed.  He followed Dizzy into the kitchen, looking for something to keep him occupied, and was more than satisfied with the task of cleaning up after breakfast.  The cooks, now one woman stronger with the addition of the Jellyfish's chef Leap, were already preparing for lunch.  Not feeling quite that industrious he excused himself once the breakfast dishes were finished, and took it upon himself to explore the House a while.  The children were spread about everywhere, listening to stories from the crewmembers or simply running about.  A large group had gathered around Johnny in the lobby as he shared with them some harrowing tale of thievery and adventure.  It sounded suspiciously like an incident involving an attack on a trade convoy over Spain earlier that year.  Though Ky did his best to pass silently he caught Johnny's attention, and both paused, meeting each other's gaze.  The pirate lifted his hand in an almost sheepish wave, and Ky nodded silently, his smile grim.  It was the closest to an apology either of them were prepared to offer just yet.

Eventually Ky wandered outside.  True to its Mediterranean climate the air was warm and dry, and he deeply breathed in its clear, salty scent.  He shed his sandals by a small shrubbery near the House as he ventured across sun-heated sand.  It really was beautiful here, free of distant rubble or scarred landscape.  Not far from shore several of the children—including Bridget—were pouncing about in the water, and their laughter rang back to him as if from some distant memory.  Watching them now, it was nearly impossible to think that he had ever been so careless or so free.  His childhood memories were those of study, training, battle, and loss.  His parents and his comrades, his ideals…so many things lost to an era these children would never have to experience, tucked away in this tiny paradise of theirs.

Ky lowered himself to the beach, folding his arms over his knees as he continued to watch their tireless play.  He was happy.  So happy that his body ached as he leaned forward to press his face into his sleeves.  And if not for fear of the children spotting him in such a state, he would have wept.

*****

Testament wasn't quite happy with the assignment he had been given.  He had been enjoying himself, reclined on the beach with his feet stretched out to catch the barest edge of surf against their soles.  But Bridget was not to be deterred, and with a sigh of resignation he removed the child that had made herself a comfortable seat of his lap.  Pushing to his feet, he stretched—they had been out there for some time now, enjoying the water and sun.  When he turned he was surprised to see that during that interval Ky had not moved from when he'd first arrived.  Frowning slightly, he approached the seated man.  "Ky?"

Ky flinched a little, as if drawn from some deep thought, and slowly raised his head.  Testament hadn't expected to see the expression carved into his face; it caught him off guard for a moment as he realized how deeply this place seemed to be affecting the man.  "Um…Bridget wants to make sand castles," he reported obediently.  "You've been requested."

Ky blinked up at him, as if having not understood what was being asked of him.  After a moment he smiled slightly.  It was fake and shallow, almost painful to look at.  "Thank you.  But I think I'll have to decline."

Testament stared, trying to determine how to best handle this situation.  Normally he would have accepted the response and slipped away, but something in Ky's blue eyes made him stay.  Ky of all people deserved to be among these children—it was the peace he had created that gave them this life, and it didn't seem fair that he shouldn't enjoy it with them.

More than that…Testament didn't like it.  He wasn't sure why, but he found himself crouching down in front of the officer, his tone serious despite the ridiculousness of his request.  "Please come build a sand castle.  There have been threats to bury me in the sand if I can't get you to come over there, and they outnumber me."

Ky stared at him, clearly baffled, and then…he laughed.  They were both equally surprised to hear it, and Testament felt something like pride swell in him for having coaxed such a reaction.  He offered a hand, and this time Ky accepted and was helped to his feet.  "All right," the officer replied, smiling as both turned back toward the group of children.

"Ah, good job, good job," Bridget clucked as the pair approached.  He and several others had already set into making the foundation of what could prove to be an impressive sand castle indeed.  "This is gonna be the moat, and the drawbridge, and the prison tower.  You guys can work on that."

Testament rolled his eyes, though he knew Bridget didn't mean anything by it.  Without protest he and Ky set to work alongside the children, devoting themselves whole-heartedly to the task, odd as it seemed.

As was only natural, not even half an hour later the architectural venture lay unfinished as Bridget and the others charged back into the water for another swim.  Ky was nearly dragged in after them, until he reminded them of his yet injured back; the prospect of salt water on healing wounds was not a pleasant one, and saved him from enduring the playful splashing that Testament had suffered all morning.  At last the shore was peaceful again, safe from their antics, and Ky and Testament sat together as self-appointed chaperones to their play.

"It's something, isn't it?" Testament said lightly, leaning back on his hands as he watched them.  "I've…never been around so many children, like this.  It's a little intimidating."

"I haven't for a long time," Ky admitted.  He rested his arms easily on his knees once more.  "Not since my school days.  But these…are still a little much for me."

"That man Youn must be brave to put up with them all the time."

"I can't even imagine."

They were silent for a while, just enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.  Out in the water Bridget was pulling one of the smaller children onto his shoulders for a chicken fight, and several other pairs followed suit.  It was a little strange seeing the boy in a bathing suit with his chest uncovered; there were times Testament almost forgot Bridget was, in fact, male.  "That Bridget seems to be having fun, at least," he commented idly.

Beside him, Ky hummed thoughtfully.  "Somehow, he seems even more genuine than before."  He paused.  "I wonder if he really is lonely after all…?"

Testament straightened, and his eyes flickered briefly to Ky's profile.  "You…."  He frowned down at his feet.  "You overheard that?  The other night on the ship…."

Ky flinched a little as well, and when he spoke again his voice had lowered somewhat.  "Um…yes.  I didn't mean to, but…."  There was another short pause, and at last Ky seemed to rally his courage.  "Are you really going to leave the ship?"

Though he should have expected him to ask, Testament was still ill equipped to answer such a question.  "Eventually," he replied evasively.  "I think."  He sighed.  "If you overhead, then you already know why I can't stay with them."

"Are you sure you're not overreacting?" Ky asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I heard what Dizzy said about me, and she's right."  Testament shook his head slightly, letting his hair fall enough to cover his face.  "Besides, the last thing the Jellyfish pirates need is another famous Gear among them.  Especially now, knowing this place depends on them…it would be selfish of me to put them in danger."

They were simple arguments to make, reasonable arguments, and yet each word sent more of that nameless cold into Testament's stomach.  Raising his gaze to the frolicking children only made it worse when he realized he would have to leave here.  "Maybe Bridget was right," he said quietly, smiling ruefully to himself.  "Maybe when Dizzy left…I was lonely."

"Then maybe it's time you got out into the world again," Ky suggested easily.  He chuckled.  "Bridget could give you a makeover."

Testament's smile deepened sincerely at the thought.  It certainly was something, to think that Ky was suggesting he should be around people again.  He reasoned it was only being with the children, so carelessly, that was suppressing his usual prejudice, and yet he was irrationally pleased.  "When he did you he made you look like me.  I can't imagine what he'd come up with for me."

Ky laughed again.  "That's true."

Testament tilted his head back, meeting Ky's eyes.  "Though I liked you better as a blonde," he declared.

Ky blinked, about to respond; it was just then that Bridget led his posse back up on the beach, determined to bury Testament in the sand.

*****

The day progressed as a whirlwind of activity and excitement; the group shared a lunch of various sandwiches, and afterwards Ky encouraged Testament to join Dizzy in helping prepare dinner. Testament was hesitant, wary that Dizzy had been told some of his conversation with Bridget, but he couldn't refuse her smiling face.  He worked alongside her in the kitchen, his job mostly that of cutting up vegetables for salad.  They even chatted a bit about the children and some of the things that had gone on when Dizzy was first brought to the island.  They hadn't shared a pleasant conversation like that for a long time, and it put him deeply at ease.

After dinner Ky and Testament met, pulling Johnny aside so they could talk a bit in private.  Though the officer and pirate at first regarded each other with some remaining uncertainty, it was Ky who first broke the silence in offering a worded apology.  Johnny accepted and returned the sentiments as Testament stood back a moment, grateful for their reconciliation.

"In any case," Johnny spoke up, shaking himself a bit, "Zepp will be coming to rest just east of Rome two days from now.  I'm not sure yet exactly how we're going to handle sending someone up there, but…that's something to worry about later.  For now we can relax."

"You still haven't told us everything Baiken and Anji said in Rome," Ky reminded him, doing his best not to sound at all accusing.

"We'll have time for that.  Right now, I'm damn exhausted."  He chuckled as he headed back towards the lobby.  "Time to cool the little brats down before putting them to bed."

Ky nodded and watched him leave.  Though he wasn't exactly pleased with postponing their share of information, he was equally fatigued, and the thought of a warm bed was especially appealing.  He and Testament followed Johnny to the main room with the children as they scampered about, getting in a few last games while there was still a bit of daylight.

Seemingly eons after Ky had awoken on the airship that morning, the sun melted into a golden horizon, signaling that it was finally time for sleep.  This raised another frenzy as the children changed into pajamas, brushed their teeth and scurried into the large sleeping room Youn had indicated earlier.  "The first night back, most everyone sleeps in here," the man explained to Ky as he loosened his hair from its already tattered braid.  "Some of the youngest children from _Mayship_—those that were picked up in the last few months—will be left behind here when Johnny leaves, and some of my older ones will go with the crew to either become pirates or visit foreign cities and begin a new life.  It's something like their last chance to be together with everyone.  A big sleepover-going away party."

"I see."  Ky, having already changed back into the pajamas he'd first received from Bridget on _Mayship_, watched as everyone ran about to stake their claim on a sleeping area.  Even Johnny was there, picking a spot near the middle—all the youngest children flocked to him, curling under his arms and against his sides.  Though out of place due to her age May insisted on taking a spot at his right.  It was startling how different the pirate looked, no longer dressed in his characteristic leather coat and hat, his glasses shed.  For the first time Ky felt like he could really see him, and the pure affection painted across his face as he welcomed the children against him.

"Will you be staying with us?" Youn asked with a tipped smile.  He must have noticed how intently Ky was watching everyone.  "There are plenty of rooms prepared, if you like, but you're welcome to sleep here."

"Oh, I don't think so," Ky replied, somehow embarrassed.  "I'm…really not supposed to be here, anyway."

"Don't be ridiculous!" a young voice piped up behind him, and Ky wasn't all that surprised when Bridget snatched his hand and began to drag him across the room.  "You're an honorary pirate for now, so you can be here, too.  Come on—Noverre saved a spot for us on the side."

"But I—"  Ky flushed, daunted by the idea of sleeping alongside so many young girls…it was hardly appropriate.  But then someone was pushing a pillow into his arms, someone was tugging on his pant leg.  With a heavy sigh he allowed himself to be pulled down onto the mess of mattresses.  Quickly he stretched out on his stomach so that he was comfortable, and before he even realized who it was two bodies wriggled up next to him.  Bridget was on his right, giggling and quite proud of himself, one of the crewmembers on his left—a young teen with short brown hair and a blushing grin.

"You're kinda cute," she giggled.

Ky blushed deeper, and coughed lightly into his hand—he was probably at least ten years older than her.  "Um…thank you."

A few minutes later everyone was settled, and Youn downed the lights.  Several of the windows had been left open, allowing cool sea air and dull moonlight to seep into the large room.  Gradually the murmurs spreading about began to fade into the distant pulse of waves against the shoreline.  It never became completely quiet; every once in a while a child would cough, or shift in their sleep, or murmur something incoherent.  Even the sound of each person's breath seemed to fill the room.  

But it was a dull, gentle kind of commotion, and Ky felt as if it were filtering right through him, easing whatever tension remained in his limbs and back.  The warmth against his sides, the softness of the pillow beneath his cheek, even Bridget's gentle breath against his shoulder were a kind of subtle intimacy he'd never known; he almost became emotional again, but he managed to swallow it back.  Johnny must have trusted him terribly to bring him to a place like this, when a few misplaced words of his could bring it to ruin.  And yet here he was, sharing their food and bed and comfort.  It was humbling, and his last feelings as he drifted off to sleep were that, for just this once, he had become innocent once more.

*****

Nestled in the corner next to Dizzy, Testament didn't sleep for very long.  Though he was equally subdued by the calm atmosphere, there was something about the shifting bodies that made him restless.  He wasn't used to being around so many people, and his instinct could not be so easily undermined.  Being careful not to wake Dizzy he climbed to his feet, moving slowly around the edge of the mass of bodies.  He wasn't sure where he might go—maybe just to the window to catch a breath of fresh air.  But as he reached one of the open windows he paused, following a stream of gentle moonlight to where it alighted on a man's profile.  His lips parted faintly at the sight of him.

Ky was stretched out on his side, covered barely by a light sheet and breathing deeply.  Bridget lay curled against his back, and though the mattress was dented in front of the man it appeared the girl who had once occupied the spot had rolled away in her sleep, and was now draped across a fellow crewmember.  Despite the movement that had taken place Ky appeared to be sleeping peacefully, his face arranged in a pleasant, almost boyish expression of content.  Testament was somewhat fascinated by the gentle curl of his lips; Ky had not looked quite so serene in all the time he'd known him, and he lowered himself quietly to his knees as if to better see.  With the moonlight painting his pale skin, and looking so calm, the officer was…beautiful.  It caused Testament's mind to spiral back, remembering all their strange encounters these past several days.  Ky's pain, his gratitude, his determination, his intensity, his uncertainty, his sincerity—so many different faces and appearances, and yet none of them fit that which he beheld now.  Testament was awed, maybe even envious, of the gentle, child-like grace his sleeping visage could convey.  

Ky stretched faintly, and slowly his eyelids fluttered open.  Even in the dark he could tell how blue Ky's eyes were.  Testament was too caught up in the tiny movements; it wasn't until he heard his name spoken that he really realized the officer was awake.

"Testament…?"

"…Yes?"

Ky craned his neck back to better see the Gear, watching him questioningly.  Testament wasn't sure what to say or do, and he shifted indecisively on his knees.  Ky's lips tilted in a thoughtful frown, and then he smiled.  "There's still room down here," he offered in a whisper.

Testament blinked.  That had not been his intention—he had been seeking some quiet isolation to better calm himself, and rationally his disquiet would not be dissolved by returning into the mix of tossing bodies and resounding human breath.  But he was being welcomed, and he slipped forward, settling himself on the mattress alongside Ky.  The officer's smile deepened, moving a bit so that Testament would have plenty of room.  Without a word he closed his eyes once more, and by his appearance was almost instantly asleep.

Testament rolled onto side.  He had no pillow so he twisted his arm beneath his head, brushing his hair back.  Though he wasn't sure if he would be able to sleep any better on the other side of the room, at least…he had something of a better view.  A tiny warmth settled in his stomach as he watched Ky's breath deepen, his face relax once more into unblemished tranquility.  After several long minutes he, too, closed his eyes.

*****

Ky slept later that morning than he had in some time.  It was simply too warm here, too comfortable, for him to want to give it up easily.  Even as the mattress beneath him was jostled by stirring bodies, whispered voices filling the air, he merely shifted closer to the subtle heat in front of him.  He could tell that it was old, powerful magic, like the familiar feeling of his own Thunderseal.  It had followed him into his dreams, even, as deep and unmemorable as they were, and he was convinced that he had just slept better than he had in years.

Eventually he was drawn awake by a quiet sigh in front of him; warm breath passed over the bridge of his nose, coaxing his eyes open.  He was startled to find himself staring directly into Testament's sleeping face.  He only just vaguely remembered inviting Testament next to him, but he was certain they had not started this close together.  Afraid that if he moved too much the Gear would awaken and find them in such an embarrassing position, he remained still.  It was strange how, up close, Testament's skin was just as flawless as from a distance.  He tried to push those thoughts aside and force himself to leave, but…somehow he was reluctant.  He couldn't help but wonder if this was how Bridget had felt when he'd spent the night with the Gear….

He tarried too long; Testament's eyes flickered open as well, and Ky held his breath as he waited for a reaction.  Testament seemed equally surprised to find them so close together, but he got over it quickly.  He blinked slowly.  "Good morning."

Ky gulped, baffled by the sudden tension that seemed to be stretching across the space between them.  He wasn't used to staring so deeply into another person's eyes like this, and it was intimidating.  "Um…Good morning."  He shifted back a little, a few strands of darkened hair falling over his face.

Testament reached out, and Ky froze as worn fingertips alighted just barely on his forehead.  They moved back, passing lightly over Ky's temple and the rise of his cheekbone; his fingers and toes curled at the brush of smooth skin against his face.  He stared back, questioningly, into Testament's bright eyes.

Testament pulled his hand back.  "You missed one," he teased lightly.

Ky blinked, still and silent as he tried to rally his senses back to him.  He was jarred to life once more with the sound of someone giggling overhead.  Ky and Testament both tilted their heads back, only to see Bridget watching them with a grin.

"You're gonna miss breakfast, sleepy heads," the boy chided, and with another fit of giggles turned to scamper out of the room.

Ky sighed quietly.  "I suppose…we should go."

"Yes."

Both hesitated a moment; at last it was Testament who moved first, pushing to his feet with a wide yawn and a few stretches.  Ky watched him, still confused, as if suddenly not knowing who the Gear was.  At last he climbed off the mattress as well, rotating his shoulders slightly against a dull stiffness between them.  A glance out the window showed the morning had indeed progressed far without them, and he turned to Testament with an embarrassed smile.  "Did you sleep well?"

"I suppose," he replied simply.  His gaze escaped Ky's with a duck of his head, and he turned toward the room's exit, pausing to wait for him.  "You?"

"Yes…."  Ky's fingers tightened faintly at his sides.  "Um…you can go on ahead," he suggested lightly.  "I'll be right there."

Testament frowned slightly, but he nodded, and without another word strode from the sleeping room.

Once he was gone, Ky released his breath in a long sigh.  "What's come over me?" he wondered aloud as he shook himself.  Now that he was free of the bed, of Testament's bright stare, his mind began to clear once more.  He hadn't done anything, and yet he felt…foolish.  Even more so when he raised a hand to his face, recalling the touch of worn flesh, the way it had made his heart skip—just a little—in his chest.

"Foolish," Ky repeated to himself, shaking his head again as he finally headed toward the door.  It was only…these children, making him sentimental, reminding of how long it had been since he'd known intimacy.  Nothing more. 

*****

It had been so peaceful before; a quiet, warm, drifting kind of feeling, like a hot bath after a rainy day.  Like thick blankets and a soft mattress on a winter night.  At least, it was as Chipp had imagined those things to be.  In truth he hadn't had such luxuries in a long time, making the sensations that much more welcomed.

Presently, however, he could feel that he had been removed from the soothing environment.  He could only just barely detect his surroundings—something cold against his back, rough fabric against naked flesh.  His throat was sore and it was hard to breathe.  He was especially aware of eyes moving over him, and distantly, someone spoke his name.

"Ah…."  When he tried to speak, to question the perceived presence, he found his lips curling numbly around some obstruction in his mouth.  A cold shudder ran through him as he at last managed to open his eyes, only to find his sight blurred by harsh, neon lights.  He winced and tried to turn weakly away.

"Professor."

"Hm?  Oh."  The voices grew closer, and Chipp could just make out the silhouette of a person shifting in the light.  "You're awake."

"Wh…."  But again Chipp found that he couldn't speak, and instead focused his energy into awakening his senses.  He was lying on something long and flat, like a table, which was cold to the touch.  He couldn't move his wrists, ankles, or legs, though his limbs weren't responding well to his prompts anyway.  The thought that he had been drugged sent something cold and bitter into the pit of his stomach.

"You have an extraordinary tolerance to sedatives, Mr. Zanuff," a female voice was saying, confirming his suspicions.  He squinted against the light, but he was only able to make out the shape of her, no characteristics or features.  "I didn't expect you to be awake for this."

Chipp's expression hardened.  It was then that he began to remember the robots—their flashing eyes, the charge of heated electricity that had felled him.  Hissing in frustration he tried again to struggle with little success, and after a moment set upon trying to gnaw through the plastic tube obstructing his throat.

"You shouldn't do that," the woman advised.  Gradually her face came into focus, and though he recognized the slim features and short, red-brown hair he couldn't place it right away.  As if she were something he'd seen in a dream, while floating so comfortably….  "That tube is helping you breathe.  Your body is still numb from the drugs—there's no telling if your lungs will function without our help."

Chipp glared up at the woman defiantly, though he did stop; he wasn't thinking too clearly, and there was no way of knowing if she was bluffing or not.  His eyes were able to convey his demands well enough.

"We received a call from our superior some time ago," she explained, moving out of his sight for a moment.  He could hear more people bustling about, a rustle of metal.  "It seems he's going to need more help to finish what he started.  Though we'd been hoping to save you for a full procedure, we'll have to settle with something more temporary."  She reappeared, one hand dropping stealthily out of Chipp's field of vision.  "You understand."

Chipp squirmed, eyes narrowed and hateful, until he felt the prick of a needle against his neck, even with his dulled senses.  Almost immediately afterwards he felt his veins begin to burn, and he gasped against the plastic breathing tube.  But he couldn't move, couldn't even cry out as the heat collected in his chest, and from there began to spread all through him.  Like the lightning that had burned his blood that night when the robots found him.

"There."  Chipp could still hear her, even as he shuddered and fought on the table.  "He's ready."

Chipp turned his wide eyes on the woman, but by then she had already stepped back.  In her place appeared the figure of a man.  But as he leaned forward Chipp felt a jolt—the face the man bore was one of crude steel and gleaming yellow, and it was the last thing he saw before being dragged suddenly into unconsciousness once more.


	13. Chapter 12

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Here's chapter 12!  I know I've gotten a little off as to when I'm posting chapters, but I'm still trying to put them out every week, so if you come back once a week…there should be something there ^^.

That being said I'm going home for the break tomorrow, so I'm not sure how much time I'll have to work on Culmination—parents running around and all ^_~.  But I'll do my best to keep posting.

Thanks again to everyone who's been supporting me with their reviews, I really appreciate it.

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 12

It wasn't until after lunch that Ky finally managed to get Johnny away from the children and convince him that they needed to discuss what had taken place in Rome.  He agreed, and they met with Testament in one of the House's former offices around a round table.  Johnny even shed his glasses and hat to show he was being serious as he related all that Baiken and Anji had shared.  Ky went next, telling him how they had met the cloaked stranger and what he'd said.  Testament confirmed that he recognized the man.  Johnny admitted that he hadn't heard anything about Sol being in Rome, but that it was possible, if Bridget had heard it from Anji.

And then the trio paused, staring down at folded hands as they fit the pieces together in their minds.  It was Ky who spoke first.  Though in the past it had been Johnny who took over all their discussions and decisions, this time he was determined to be heard.

"The Bureau is collecting people who can use Ki magic," Ky summarized, watching his own interlaced fingers.  "And Japanese.  If The Ninth is any indication, they have found a way to utilize that magic without being of Japanese descent.  We still don't know exactly what they want this power for, except that it _is_ powerful, and may possibly be used to fight Gears.  Maybe even the creator of the Gears himself…if he is even still alive."

"Anji claims he is," Johnny said, leaning back in his chair.  "I believe he was telling the truth…though there's no way to know if Anji himself was being lied to.  He seems gullible like that."

Ky nodded thoughtfully.  "For now, we can only assume it's true.  Which may mean…he's a Gear himself, or otherwise not human."  The thought sent a shudder through him, though it was somewhat easier to accept; it made more sense that it was a non-human who had condemned humanity to genocide.  "Whatever the case, he may be working on his own new weapons as well.

"There's also the issue of the robots," Ky continued.  He glanced up, noticing with a slight frown that Testament's head was turned away.  He went on regardless.  "They're being produced at an alarming rate, and that has to come to a stop.  Regardless of whether or not they intend to overrun the Global Police with them, they are a threat to order.  It's not hard to believe that with a large enough army of them they could take over."  His eyes narrowed.  "And he said: 'I am the new Order.'  That, and the fact that they are all dressed in the uniform of the Holy Order, strongly indicates this is their intent."

Johnny smirked slightly.  "So you believe me, now?"

"The evidence is such that I cannot do otherwise."

The pirate chuckled, shaking his head.  "Well all right then."

"The thing that puzzles me is that there seem to be two agendas going on—their hunt for Ki and the creation of the robots."  Ky rested his chin on the back of his palm.  "Not to say they can't have many goals…it seems odd, that both projects seem to be run by the same man, the same robots."

"Unless it's actually the same goal."

Ky and Johnny both glanced up, drawn by Testament's sudden return to the conversation.  The Gear was still staring blindly toward the window, his arms folded and face blank.  "What do you mean?" Johnny asked, somewhat carefully.

"What if they're trying to combine the two projects?"  Testament turned back at last, his eyes jumping to Ky.  "Robots and Ki."

"You mean…robots that can use Ki?" Ky surmised, leaning back a little with alarm.

"That's impossible," Johnny protested.  "Ki doesn't work like that.  It's a focus of a person's natural energy—human thought and feeling.  There's no way a robot can use power like that."

Ky and Testament both looked to him, and he cringed a little.  "I guess…I do know more about Ki than I was letting on before."

Ky snorted quietly, though he was at least somewhat vindicated by the admission.  "Is there anything else you'll tell us?"

"You don't have to say it like that…."  Johnny scratched the back of his head, though in truth he was taking things just as seriously as them.  His expression hardened a moment later as testimony to that.  "Look, I don't know all that much.  Just…Ki is damn powerful.  You were right about one thing, Ky—I know exactly what Ki-using Japanese are capable of."  He brushed a hand over his chest, probably thoughtlessly, and Ky had the sudden impression that he was remembering the touch of old scars.  "And if that crazy bastard has figured out a way to use it, it won't be good."

"But you're sure a machine could never use Ki."

"It's impossible—robots don't have a soul to create Ki from."

Testament sighed quietly.  "You're forgetting one thing."

"And what's that?"

"That they've already done it."  Testament's gaze turned again on Ky, and the officer straightened beneath the firm stare.  "Do you remember?"

"His arm…."  Ky gasped quietly as he realized what Testament was hinting at.  That night in the alley—the resonance of metal when he should have severed flesh and bone.  His eyes widened as he at last began to understand.  "He was a robot."

Johnny blinked between them in confusion.  "What?  What is it?"

"The Ninth isn't human anymore," Testament confirmed, his voice dropping bitterly.  "Not since before I knew him.  He is, in a sense, a robot."

Ky licked his lips.  Though he hated to ask when he could already see the strain in Testament's features, he had no choice.  "Maybe it's time," he said evenly, "for that explanation you promised me."

Testament nodded vaguely, clearly not at all thrilled with the idea.  "I…met him during the Crusades," he began distantly.  His eyes were glazed, as if seeing the memories as he spoke them.  "He was still working for the Bureau back then, but at the time they were only interested in developing anti-Gear weapons—as far as I knew.  I was told he was The Ninth, of fifteen.  He couldn't use Ki then, but he didn't need to; he'd undergone some ritual connected to the Forbidden Magics."

"Forbidden Magics?" Johnny repeated, startled.  "Like…."  He frowned deeply.  "Like with the Assassin's Guild?"

"It seems that way," Testament replied.  "I don't understand it well myself, but from what I gathered many of his bones and internal organs were replaced—or converted somehow—into robotics.  His bones can't be easily broken and his strength and endurance is a match for a Gear.  He can also heal very quickly, and sometimes even channel electricity as a form of lightning magic.  Which is, I'm sure Ky will agree, extraordinary in itself."

Ky nodded, lost in thought for a moment as he considered this new development.  To think that magic and machinery could be mixed in such a way….  "So, you've fought him."

"Several times."  Testament's voice tipped strangely.  "I don't know how to defeat him, if that's what you want to ask.  All I was ever able to do was last long enough."

"I see."   Ky wasn't sure what that meant, but there seemed little point in pressing that issue.  "You also said," he went on carefully, mindful of Testament's discomfort, "that he should have been dead by now."

Testament's eyes thinned slightly.  "He should.  Unless there's some link between the Forbidden Magics and longevity.  It was over fifty years ago that I met him."

"That long?" Johnny echoed Ky's own surprise.  Though he had known Testament, as a Gear, was capable of living for more than five times that number of years, it was somewhat boggling to imagine he could possibly be that old.  Especially considering his unblemished skin and still thick, pitch black hair.  

"Yes.  About that time, in any case."

"I see," Ky murmured again, suddenly distracted.  He tried to pull his full attention back to the matters at hand.  "It's not that hard to believe that if he is a capable magic user, his lifespan has been somehow lengthened.  It probably won't make a difference for tracking and facing him, other than it means he must have that much more battle experience.  What's more important is his objective: quite possibly the creation of robots that can use Ki."

Ky paused, then, his eyes flickering wide as a sudden realization came to him—the thought of which lightening his cheeks several pale shades.  He looked to Testament, who seemed to have come up with the answer already himself.  The Gear nodded grimly.

"Or," Ky spoke for both of them, "making robots from people who can already use Ki…."

"What?"  Johnny glanced between them in shock.  "You're kidding, right?  That's…."  He shook his head fiercely.  "That's ridiculous!"

"They're already trying to apprehend Japanese and people who can use Ki," Testament spoke quietly.  "The Ninth himself knows how to perform the ritual to create robotic humans through magic, as he has used it on himself.  But the Forbidden Magics are difficult to control, especially if your host is not willing—he may even be hunting Millia Rage to better study her experience with it."

"I'm a hindrance to their plan of takeover, and they want Johnny killed because he already has a lot of knowledge about Ki," Ky filled in the rest.  "If they were to capture and control powerful Ki users…an army like that would…."  He shuddered at the images his mind produced, and he shook himself to try and rid them from him.  "It is monstrous.  Someone like Baiken is a deadly opponent as it is—if she were to be changed into some kind of mechanical weapon—"

"Damnit, that's right—Baiken and Anji."  Johnny pushed urgently to his feet.  "They're still in Rome.  If that bastard's still there, he could call reinforcements—they have no idea what they're up against!"

"Do you have any way of contacting them?" Ky asked with concern.

"I…damnit, I don't."  Johnny slumped back into his chair again.  "I told Baiken to contact us, but not for a while.  Unless we went back to Rome and looked, there's no way we could get to her.  Damnit."  He smacked his fist against the table, startling his two companions.  "What if we're too late already?"

"There's not much we can do about it now," Testament said shortly, standing from his chair.  "This is still speculation, and it won't do us any good if we can't find where they are."

Ky nodded gravely.  "There must be a factory, or a laboratory somewhere.  Someplace that would require huge amounts of raw materials and power, not to mention Zeppian technology."

"Which means there's no point in worrying too much on it until we've been to Zepp and investigated there," Testament finished.  He turned suddenly to head for the door.

Ky twisted in his chair to watch him.  "Where are you going?"

"Out.  There's no point just guessing—we'll have to wait until we see it for ourselves."  And before either of the two men could stop him, he had left.

Ky frowned, watching the closed door for a moment before turning back to Johnny.  "I suppose…it must be a strain on him," he said thoughtfully, feeling inexplicably guilty for having forced Testament to discuss his memories so openly.  And to think that earlier that morning he had seemed so content, eating breakfast with the children….

"He's not the only one," Johnny retorted, scrubbing at his face.  There was silence, and then the pirate sighed, meeting Ky's eyes.  "What about Sol?" he asked seriously.  "You don't really think he knows anything about all this, do you?"

"I…."  Ky's gaze faltered, flicking once more to the table.  "I don't know," he confessed.  "There's no telling how much he's been able to figure out on his own, or if he even cares.  There's no predicting that man."

"Yeah, no kidding."  Johnny stood, retrieving his glasses and hat as he followed Testament's path to the door.  He patted Ky's shoulder as he passed.  "There's nothing we can do about it just yet, in any case.  Might as well get your strength back—it won't be easy getting information from Zepp.  We can't just stroll in like we did in Rome."

"Yes, you're right."  Zepp was, after all, a country independent of the United Nations.  It required a special, approved visa to get in, and even then they couldn't get the information they needed just by walking around, chatting with whomever they came across.  They would need to be organized and specific.

But all this consideration was starting to make Ky's head spin, and with a sigh he followed Johnny outside the office.  Immediately he felt as if he could breathe a little easier, as they passed an open window and the smell of the sea floated along.  Ky took a moment to appreciate it.  "We'll talk again later," he assured Johnny just before they parted ways.  "About how to best deal with it."

"Yeah.  Take it easy until then."  They separated, Johnny to check on the children, Ky to return to _Mayship_ on an errand of his own.

*****

After their discussion in the office, Testament found himself wandering the grounds surrounding the House.  The children were out and about as usual, frolicking in the warm weather and chasing white-caps along the ocean shoreline.  For once, their tireless play did nothing to calm him.  They were innocent and beautiful, but when he remembered the content of his recent conversation, in his mind he saw them all with the Ninth's cold, dark eyes, his soulless malice.  It made him shudder terribly, and after a few minutes he retreated back towards the House.

He didn't want to remember.  But it was getting harder, as the day wore on, to escape the groups of running, laughing children.  He turned down several invitations to play in favor of seeking solitude within the House's inner rooms.  He tried to sleep, hoping to make up for all he'd missed the night before, but whenever his eyelids sealed he could only see flashing steal and magic.  Could feel the dozens of human bodies shifting in a darkened night, their breath resounding in a low, monotonous hiss that seemed to sink into his pores.  These humans…so many of them, running about, careless and ignorant, hanging off his arms and tugging him along….  With the memories of his past so clear in his present mind, their scent was almost suffocating, and as afternoon passed into evening, he found himself withdrawing from any that tried to approach him.

He wanted to find Ky.  Even if Ky were one of them—one of the human's he had been taught to hate—Testament knew that he, at least, would understand this lingering instinct that had suddenly returned to plague him.  After everything they had agreed upon and shared, those wide blue eyes would not condemn him.  When he couldn't find the man, he was forced to go to the one person who seemed to have their nose in everything.

"Ky?"  Bridget glanced up from where he was playing cards with some of the other boys.  "You're looking for him?"

"Yes…."  Testament glanced among the gathered youths; four boys in their teens, each of them watching him with mixed expressions of curiosity, indifference, and apprehension.  The boy on Bridget's right, in particular, was barely blinking as he studied the intruding Gear.  Foolish as it seemed, the close scrutiny made something at the back of Testament's mind tighten defensively.

"I think he went up to town," Bridget reported, drawing a card from the pile and studying it.  He slipped it into his hand.  "Something about doing some work.  Didn't say what, though."

Testament's eyes thinned; the thought of entering a city with even more people quickly put a stop to any thoughts he might had held to follow him.  "I see.  Thank you."  He turned to leave.

"Are you going?" Bridget asked curiously, twisting so he could see Testament more clearly.  "We could use another player."

The boy on his right snorted bitterly, and without really thinking Testament's gaze snapped to him.  There must have been something in his face he didn't realize, as the boy—and the others as well—leaned back a little, as if suddenly frightened.  He…hadn't intended that.  He hadn't come here to intimidate anyone, and their nervous faces rose a strange sense of dread in him.

"Testament?" Bridget said when he didn't reply.

"No," Testament said a little too quickly.  "No, I don't think so.  But…thank you."  He turned, striding swiftly away from the group.

The boys sighed, relaxing as they returned their attention to the game.  "Creepy," one of the muttered.  "And you actually like that guy, Bridget?"

"He's not a bad guy," Bridget protested, swinging his gaze away from Testament's retreating figure.  "He's just…stressed.  Or something."

"Whatever.  You still have to discard."

"Oh…yeah."  Still frowning, Bridget set down one of his cards, though by then his thoughts were far from the game being played.

*****

Ky himself didn't return from his own business until everyone had seated for dinner.  He sat with Bridget this time, enjoying the company of some of the older children.  Many complaints were made as to his disappearance that afternoon, and after much fuss over the matter he agreed to show them why.  After a quick meal they followed him to one of the House's empty rooms, where he had stashed the object of his attention that day to keep the younger children from stumbling upon it.

"What is it?" Bridget chirped as he retrieved the cloth-wrapped bundle.  "I wanna see!"

"You will, you will," Ky assured.  "But don't tell Johnny I'm showing you all this—I'm not sure if he'd approve."  That being said he finally revealed to them his work: his long-missed sword, Thunderseal, bearing new colors.  Rather than the blue and white it was known for, the blade had been colored deep red, the hilt black.  It gave the renowned weapon an almost sinister appearance.

"O~h," Bridget and the others marveled, especially the boys.

"I'm not sure I like it," Ky admitted, cradling the sword carefully in both hands.  This sword had been his companion longer than most people.  Hopefully, he wouldn't have too much difficulty reverting the color back later.  "But if I'm going to continue moving about in disguise, I thought my sword might as well match."

His audience nodded in agreement, and soon after were each begging for their turn to carry the weapon.  Ky objected for as long as he could, but in the end saw no harm it letting each hold it at least once—under his strict supervision.  He realized at some point that he was judging each boy who took it up, watching their stance and grip, the ease to which they were able to handle the weighted blade.  It reminded him of how long it had been since he'd been required to train young soldiers, and though the memories of such days were bittersweet, he couldn't help but smile.

When one of them spotted Dizzy coming down the hall Ky quickly bound the sword once more, against many protests, and hid it away.  He would have to remind himself to hide it in another room at the first opportunity in case one of the too-eager boys came looking for it later.  For now, he faced Dizzy, trying to look innocent as Bridget giggled at his side.

He didn't have to worry about Dizzy seeing through him, however; her face bore a look of distracted concern. "Ky.  You haven't seen Testament lately, have you?"

"Testament?" Ky echoed, frowning thoughtfully.  When he thought back, he realized they hadn't spoken a word to each other since leaving the office at different times.  "No, I haven't.  Is something wrong?"

"Just that no one's seen him all afternoon," Dizzy admitted quietly.  "I'm a little worried.  He didn't even come to dinner…."

"I see."  Ky frowned, and though he knew there was no reason for alarm he couldn't help but feel some apprehension after the way Testament had been behaving earlier.  "I'm sure he's fine," he assured Dizzy in the meantime.  He turned to Bridget.  "Why don't you all go down to the lobby?" he suggested lightly.  "I'll be down in a while, and maybe I'll demonstrate some police moves for you."

He was certain that Bridget could see right through his blatant distraction, but thankfully the boy played along.  "Sure!  Come on, guys."  Though the others were reluctant, in the end Bridget won them over.  As soon as they were gone, Ky turned back to Dizzy.

"I'm sure he's fine," he told her gently.  "There was a lot we talked about today, and he probably just needed some time to think it over.  But if you're worried I can go find him, and see if he needs anything."

Dizzy sighed quietly in relief.  "Thank you, Ky."

Ky nodded, and after a stealthy relocation of his modified Thunderseal he ventured outside in search of the missing Gear.  By now the children had gone inside, as the temperature was falling somewhat rapidly, allowing him quiet in his search.  As expected, it didn't take long for him to discover the Gear: Testament was standing alone on the shore, his hair flittering about in the gentle breeze as waves rose just short of his bare feet.  His arm was outstretched, and as Ky drew gradually closer he was a little startled to see the raven, Rael, perched there.  She was preening her feathers meticulously.  Just when Ky was about to call out the bird spotted him, and with a sharp squawk she took to the air and seemed to vanish in the lengthening shadows.

"Sorry," Ky offered as he came up on Testament's right side.  "I didn't mean to scare her away."

Testament stared straight ahead as he lowered his arm once more.  "It's fine.  She had already finished telling me, anyway."

"Telling you?" Ky echoed curiously.

"That night in Rome, I had her follow the Ninth when he tried to escape," Testament explained, to the officer's surprise.  "But apparently she was spotted, and he was able to destroy her body at the time.  She wasn't with him long enough to learn anything."

"I see.  You should have told us."

"I would have, if she'd discovered anything."

A short silence followed, and Ky frowned to himself as he watched Testament's blank profile.  He couldn't tell at all what the Gear might have been thinking,; Dizzy's worries might have been founded after all.  "Are you all right?" he asked carefully.  "They say you were missing all day."

"So were you," Testament replied evasively.

"I was working on Thunderseal," Ky replied, wondering vaguely if Testament might have been looking for him.  "What were you up to?"

The Gear blinked slowly.  "Just a walk."

Ky's frown deepened.  Though he couldn't claim to be well versed in Testament's thoughts and mannerisms, this quiet indifference was starting to concern him.  When they arrived here in Sardinia, Testament had been charmed by all the children, the activity; he didn't understand why he would have purposefully avoided everyone all day.  Or…maybe he did.

"It's him, isn't it," Ky said softly.

Testament sighed.  "Yes," he confessed.  "It is."

Ky nodded vaguely, trying to decide how to best proceed.  He didn't want to upset Testament any more than he already seemed, but he wasn't sure he could leave him alone with his thoughts, either.  If anything, Testament deserved all the care and attention he had given Ky nights before on _Mayship_.

"Testament."  Though he was unsure himself if he was up to this kind of reassurance, he had to try.  Hesitantly he reached out to touch the back of Testament's hand; the Gear flinched a little, but didn't try to pull away.  "Can you tell me what's on your mind?" Ky asked gently.

Testament was still for a long time, allowing the liquid hiss of the sea to filter between them, and just when Ky was about to speak again he lifted his left hand.  There was a brief, quiet hum, followed by a soft glow of red light across Testament's palm.  Ky stared, trying to comprehend what Testament was showing him.  He was so intently watching the streak of bright crimson that he didn't realize until a moment later that there were similar markings covering Testament's face and crawling down his neck to the collar of his shirt.  They looked like lines, some jagged and some smooth, not very dissimilar to the ribbons of magic that had formed Testament's spell when he deflected the Ninth's Ki attack in Rome.

"Testament…?"  Ky was tempted to touch the red mark, but he hesitated, something cold sliding into his stomach.

"They're scars," Testament explained quietly, and Ky's eyes widened in alarm.  "They cover my entire body.  But they're not like normal scars—they're like seems of magic, and I'm able to keep them concealed with a simple spell.  I've had them ever since I was reborn as a Gear."

"Reborn…?"

Testament lowered his hand and nodded, allowing the eerie light to fade.  Ky was at a loss for words.  He could only stare at the Gear at his side, stunned and confused.  And guilty.  When he realized the meaning carried by Testament's words it took most of his strength not to retreat a step.  "You…."  His chest ached mysteriously.  "You used to be human…?"

Testament closed his eyes briefly, and when they opened again they slid, glowing dull crimson, to Ky's.  "Will you listen?" he asked softly, as the sun began to disappear behind undulating ocean to the west.  "I want to tell you what happened to me."


	14. Chapter 13

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Note:  Since there isn't much stated in the games as to Testament's backstory, I took the liberty of making a bunch of stuff up.  Please keep in mind this isn't entirely canon ^^;;

Happy Holidays, everyone!

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**Culmination**

Chapter 13

By now the sun had fallen, sending a cool, ocean wind blowing across the curved shoreline.  Ky and Testament stood there together, just beyond the reach of salty waves, both quiet as their eyes met in the growing darkness.  The sway of the sea was calm, the calls of distant birds a charming lullaby, and Testament's low, worn voice seemed to dissolve into their folds of serenity.  As if he himself were just as natural, just as solemn, as the coming of night.

"I'd considered telling you before," he told Ky softly, turning to cast his gaze to the water as locks of his hair danced over his shoulders with the breeze.  "That I was once human.  But I knew it would probably make it easier for you to accept me, and I didn't want that—not like that."  His fingers curled at his sides.  "I didn't want to mislead you into thinking that…any part of me could still be human.  The man I was died; I've never thought of myself as a human who was turned into a Gear.  I am a Gear.  It's too late for me to regret that now."

Ky lowered his head, considering Testament's words with all the gravity they deserved.  "I see," he replied just as quietly, though he couldn't help the pang of grief stinging his chest.  To think that Testament, once human, could no longer consider himself as such….  But he didn't dare question when Testament was being so serious, and he only nodded.  "I understand."

"I barely remember anything from my human life, anyway," Testament continued in the same even tone.  "Brief memories of my father, the war, even the Holy Order."  He tilted his head up slightly.  "I remember what the uniform felt like, so I think…I must have served in the Order for a short while.  I remember…Sol, fighting alongside me."

"Sol?" Ky echoed, startled, his gaze swinging back to Testament's face.  "Sol was…in the Holy Order before?"

"I'm not sure.  But I do remember him."  Testament's lip curled in a bitter smile.  "He didn't like me very much back then, either."

Not sure what to make of that, Ky only nodded again.  "What happened?"

Testament's eyes thinned subtly.  "That…I'm not exactly sure of," he confessed.  "I died, that much I know.  My father was there, crying…and when I woke up, I was in a lab."  His voice deepened spitefully.  "A lab belonging to the Bureau.  They're the ones that made me into a Gear when I should have died—I think they were hoping the trauma of having been killed would leave a bigger imprint on my memory, making it more likely that I would retain my consciousness despite Justice's power.  They wanted me to be able to reason, and…feel, the way Justice herself would."

"But why?"  Ky turned slightly to face him, trying to take in everything Testament was telling him.  "The Bureau was supposed to be developing anti-Gear weapons, not creating more Gears.  Are you saying they intended to pit you against Justice?"

"No.  No, I…."  Testament shook his head, betraying his calm exterior with a look of pain.  "No, I was their test subject."

"Test…subject…?"

"Their doll.  Their guinea pig."  A shudder ran through the Gear's flesh and tainted his eyes with agony.  "They needed a Gear that was powerful, and willful, and creative—something that could accurately show how well their weapons worked.  Fifteen anti-Gear weapons…I survived twelve before I was able to escape.  But before then…."  He lifted his palm again, and though the red lines were no longer visible his gaze sharpened as if tracing each one.  "They tested their methods on me again and again, trying to find my weaknesses—anything they might be able to use against a Gear as powerful as Justice."

"That's…."  Ky could only stare at him, horrified.  "My God…."  

"Blacktech, chemical weaponry, viruses, magic, curses—they tried just about everything they could think of."  Testament chuckled without humor.  "But they made me too well.  Nothing they could come up with would kill me.  It's…ironic, how they could easily create more Gears—I was not the only one they used—and yet they could devise nothing powerful enough to get rid of us.  They couldn't even use us Gears to fight each other; not only could they not trust that Justice wouldn't find a way to control us, but by then something happened they should have thought of."

"Should…."  By now Ky was beyond being able to think of reasonable questions, so he only licked his lips, waiting in tense silence for Testament to go on.  Even if all this talk was starting to make him feel ill.

Testament tilted his chin up subtly, and in his eyes burned something Ky hadn't seen in him for a long time: malice.  The gleaming, unwavering bloodlust that he had seen in far too many Gears.  It had been so long since he'd last seen Testament like that, and in that time he had witnessed so much of Testament's calmness and even tenderness that the reappearance of that gleaming wrath was shocking.  He nearly retreated a step.

"We hated them," Testament continued, his voice having dropped to almost a growl.  "All the torture we were put through, their tests and their weapons, each new invention of theirs carving new scars—we despised our captors, and the humanity they represented.  Like beasts driven mad."  Though the Gear's voice was still hardened Ky could see a tremor spread through his flesh, like a quiver of fear.  "The Ninth was one of them.  We'd fight to a standstill every time, and eventually the program continued, determining he wasn't effective enough.  There were other Beasts.  Other magic users, other weapons.  But it was the humans that were responsible for our torment, and when we finally escaped all we had was our hatred of them.  That hatred…."  He shuddered again.  "That insanity, which made it easy for Justice to manipulate us…."

"Testament."  Though Ky was himself shaken he knew he had to say something.  There had to be something.  "I'm…I'm so sorry, that I never knew.  The Holy Order would have never stood for such a thing."

Ky reached out, hoping that some connection of touch would calm the Gear, but as soon as their fingers brushed Testament abruptly jerked away.  "Don't," he hissed, and Ky was startled to see all Testament's vehemence crumble abruptly away.  "You don't understand."

"I understand hatred," Ky confessed, his eyes thinning subtly with the shame of that statement.  "It…has been my greatest sin.  You already know that."

The words seemed to wake Testament a little, and hesitantly his eyes swiveled to meet Ky's carefully maintained expression.  "You hated Gears," he murmured, almost testing.

Ky stood a little straighter.  "I did.  I lost many things to the war—to Gears.  But now, I regret just as many of my own actions."  He smiled grimly.  "If I had been able to find another way to end the war without so much bloodshed, I would have tried."

"Yes, I know."  Testament looked away again.  "That's how you are.  You…don't hate us anymore."

The Gear closed his eyes.  "But I still hate humans," he went on, his voice hushed, maybe even shameful.  "I hoped—I convinced myself that it might be possible, with these children and this simple life, to be happy.  To forget the past and live however I could.  And even before we came here, even when I knew I could never live quite like Dizzy, I believed that, with time, I could come to terms with my hatred and let it be.  When you said you didn't hate me…" his smile was crooked, but sincere, "…I thought it might be possible.  If humanity's champion--with so many Gears' lives to his credit--could come to forgive a creature like me, surely my own salvation was not so far away."

"Testament…."

"But it's not that simple."  Testament shook his head, letting his hair fall before his face to hide the flutter of pain across his pressed eyelids, his twisted lips.  "Strange, how this place has shown me that.  All it took was one reminder, and it all came back to me.  I…."  He lifted his hands, fingers curling stiffly.  "I was afraid I would hurt them.  All of them innocent children—orphans, like I was once—and all I could think was…'don't let me hurt them.'  I don't want to hurt them…."

Ky bit his lip, watching the Gear beside him: his lowered head, his slack shoulders, the shiver in his hands.  His chest was aching, drawn tight with too much emotion.  All that grief, shame, and fear were already buried in his own heart, and to see it painted so clearly across Testament's tortured visage shook him deeply.  For a long moment he could only stand there helplessly, praying that somehow God would guide his hand.  This was a chance for both of them, maybe for redemption, and if only he knew what to do he would have taken all of Testament's doubt and uncertainty away.  If he'd only had the words….

At long last Ky reached out, calloused fingers sliding down Testament's upper arm coaxingly.  The Gear flinched, and after some hesitation opened his eyes to meet Ky's gaze.  Ky almost lost his nerve, faced with all of Testament's questions and remorse, but before he could give in to his own doubts he lifted his other hand to a strong shoulder, turning him so they could face each other.

"It's all right," Ky said quietly, clinging firmly to his faith as he assured the Gear.  "I know, Testament.  And it's all right."

"Ky…."  Testament's eyes thinned as if in pain, and without warning he sagged wearily against Ky's shoulder.  The officer stumbled a bit, trying to keep his balance, but the sand was giving way beneath his feet.  By the time he'd slung an arm around his shoulders it was too late; Testament's legs were already folding, and with the added weight Ky couldn't keep himself upright.  With a tiny gasp he sank to his knees in the sand.  The pair landed with a jolt, causing Ky's arms to tighten around the weakened Gear.

"Ky…."  Testament, leaning on his side and nearly in Ky's lap, rested his weight against a firm chest.  His breath hissed shallowly as he hid his face beneath waves of ebony hair.  "I'm so tired," he whispered, a harsh tremor running through him.  "I'm tired…I was looking for you."

"Testament…."  Ky felt his eyes begin to burn as he tightened his arms around Testament's broad shoulders, holding him close.  It was then that he realized that he, too, was shaking.  "I'm sorry," he replied in kind, his voice thick with sympathy and regret.  "I'm sorry, Testament.  I'm so sorry…."

*****

It was getting late—everyone was already settling down to go to sleep, and neither Ky nor Testament had returned.  Bridget knew better than to worry, but he was anyway.  He hid it, for Dizzy's sake, but when the girls started to tug him down toward the mattresses for sleep he slipped away from them.  "I'm gonna go look around one more time," he said brightly, adjusting the T-shirt that served as half his pajamas.  "You guys go ahead and go to sleep."

"We won't save a spot for you," Noverre informed him smartly.

"Well fine, be that way," Bridget retorted, sticking his tongue out.

"Fine, I will."

"Fine."

Bridget scampered away before Noverre could retort again, flashing Dizzy a bright smile on his way out of the sleeping room.  He knew she was probably worrying just as much as him, but hopefully Johnny would look after her, and soon enough he would have brought the two delinquents back.  It wasn't like there was anything dangerous on this island, after all.  Nothing could have happened to them.

It wasn't easy to spot them in the dark, but after much squinting Bridget decided that the lump of shadow against the shore could be nothing other than one of their two missing companions.  He skipped lightly across the cooling sand to the water's edge.  "K~y?" he sang questioningly, "Or is that Testament?"  When he got closer, however, he was startled to see it was actually both.  He hesitated a moment.  "Ky?"

"Oh.  Hello."  Ky raised his head.  "You weren't worried about us, were you?"

They were situated together on the beach; Ky on his knees, cradling the limp form of a slumbering Testament against his chest.  The latter was curled on his side like a young child.  It was both adorable and sobering—Ky's face was haggard, as if having endured some battle.  "Are you all right?" Bridget asked seriously.

"Yes, we're fine," Ky assured.  "Testament…fell asleep.  He seemed like he really needed it, so I didn't have the heart to wake him."  He frowned at the ocean creeping up towards them.  "Will you help me move him, though?  I don't want disturb him, but I'm not sure if the tide is coming in or out."

"Shouldn't we take him inside?" Bridget suggested as he moved around to support Testament's legs.

Ky's frown deepened as he hooked his arms under Testament's, and together they carefully carried Testament a safe distance away from the shoreline.  Thankfully, he was so deeply asleep by now that he didn't even stir.  "I don't think so.  This might be the best thing for him right now.  Away from everyone."

"…Okay.  If you say so."  

They carried Testament several meters up the beach, and when Ky deemed it far enough he started to lower Testament to the sand.  It really would have made more sense to take Testament inside, to give him a bed and a blanket, but…it might be best if Testament were able to avoid the children for now, given his earlier concerns, and a trip that long risked waking him up.

Bridget helped them settle once more; Ky sitting down with his legs crossed, Testament lying on his back with his head pillowed in Ky's lap.  It would most likely render his legs asleep in no time, but when the Gear sighed contentedly in his sleep he gave up any protests.  Instead he reached down, drawing ebony locks away from Testament's face as Bridget darted back to the House to gather a pair of blankets and assure Dizzy that the pair was well.

"Are you going to stay out here with him?" Bridget asked as he returned to drape the first of the blankets over Testament.

"Yes.  I want to be here when he wakes up—I think it's important."   He paused as he watched the Gear.  "He…looks all right for now, though, doesn't he?" Ky asked quietly.

"I guess so."  Bridget flopped down at Ky's right, folding his legs beneath him as he leaned forward to see Testament's face.  He didn't look peaceful as much as deeply asleep.  "Did something happen?"

Ky sighed.  "Sort of.  He told me about his past."  He struggled a moment with how much to disclose to the younger boy.  "It's...awful, Bridget, the things that were done to him.  I couldn't even say anything."

Bridget sobered a little as he sat up.  He didn't know what Ky had done to earn Testament's trust like that, but he was a little envious; it must have really been something, to open up the usually stoic Gear.  "He looks all right now," he offered.

"Yes, but…when he wakes up…."  Ky had no idea what he might say then, and already he had gone over in his mind several times the possible assurances he could offer.  None of them seemed like they would help much.  "I don't know.  He's trying so hard to be happy here, but it's not going to be easy for him."

Bridget nodded vaguely, remembering how Testament had been avoiding everyone that day.  He still didn't really understand what was going on, and though it was a little frustrating he knew Ky would be able to handle it better than him.  "He was looking for you earlier," he reported.

"Was he?"  Ky returned his hand to soft hair, idly twisting a few of the thick strands between his fingers.  "I wish I could help him better than this.  I…."  He trailed off abruptly.

Bridget cocked his head to the side.  "Hm?"

"That is…I'm not sure what to think of him," Ky admitted, his eyes growing a little vague as he watched the movements of his hand.  "This sudden…affection I feel towards him."  He smiled ruefully.  "I can't be sure if I'm honestly growing fond of him, or if it's only my sympathy."

Bridget considered this for a long, silent moment, and Ky was a little concerned he'd said something strange.  But then Bridget was sliding closer, settling his chin on Ky's slender shoulder as he draped the second blanket over them both.  He frowned slightly, trying to see the boy, but with his head so close he could only make out a few strands of shadowed blonde.  "Bridget?"

"It's all right either way, isn't it?" Bridget asked lightly, though there was something hidden in his tone that Ky hadn't expected.  It sounded like regret—something he never would have thought to hear in Bridget's cheerful voice.  "If you don't wanna get close to someone just because you feel sorry for them…you might not find anyone to care for."  He pressed a little closer against Ky's back.  "Everyone could use a little sympathy."

Ky's eyes opened a little wider, and he turned his head slightly, wishing he could see the boy's face, but all he could manage was a faint brushing of their cheeks.  "Bridget…?"

"Right?"

"I…."  Ky glanced back towards the ocean, considering those words and their unlikely source.  "Bridget."  He lifted a hand; even if he couldn't see the boy he pressed his palm gently against the side of his face.  "You've been taking care of both of us all along, haven't you.  Thank you."

Bridget was almost unnaturally still, and then he wriggled a little like the youth he was, turning his face briefly against Ky's wide palm.  "Can I stay with you two?  Just for a while?"

"Of course."  Ky smiled quietly, patting Bridget lightly on the head before lowering his arm once more.  He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to sleep like this, with one weight against his back and another in his lap, but…he was warm, and content, here.   These two had taken such care of him in the past week, and it was a welcomed comfort to have the both of them so close to him.  Maybe he was even looking after them this time.  And before he knew it his eyes were slipping shut, carrying him, also, into deep dreams.

*****

Anji was still humming a cheerful tune as he stepped out of the motel bathroom, one towel wrapped around his waist and the other draped over his head.  "Shower's free," he called, scrubbing at his hair to dry it.  He paused when he spotted Baiken.

She was seated on the bed closest to the window, dressed in a simple, pale sleeping robe that had parted around her bent knee.  Her hair was down for once; it shielded the scar running down the side of her face so that her visage now appeared without blemish.  She would have even been beautiful, her eyes calm and manner relaxed, if not for the blade held between her teeth.  The handle of her sword was wedged between her toes, holding it in place so she could polish its sharpened metal surface with her one good hand.

Anji paused, his lip curling in a smile as he watched her.  "You're something," he chuckled, shaking his head.  "You know that?"

"Hm?"  Baiken's gaze flickered to him, and when she caught the look on his face she scowled, ruining the image of almost serenity she'd displayed a moment ago.  "Whatever," she muttered around the sword's tip.

Still grinning, Anji hopped onto his own bed, continuing to dry his hair.  "So, we're stuck here a while longer, huh?" he asked idly.  They'd stayed the last two days here, spending their money sparingly and wandering around the city.  "What's this business you have in Rome anyway?"

"Nothing much," Baiken replied carefully, her teeth tapping lightly against the metal.  "It'll be another day."

"And here I thought we were catching a flight."  Anji was silent a moment, wondering if now might be the best time to bring up his earlier concerns.  "Hey.  Where are we going, after this?"

Baiken didn't glance up from her work.  "Does it matter?"

"Yeah."  Anji took a deep breath.  "We're going to the colony, aren't we."

This time Baiken did pause, then gave her sword one last stroke of the cloth before taking it out of her mouth.  She set it aside and began to put her polishes away.  "Yeah.  You gotta problem with that?"

"Not really," Anji admitted.  "Just…you could have told me, you know."

Baiken shrugged her one shoulder stiffly.  "Didn't want to hurt your feelings, big guy."

Anji snorted, pushing off the bed as he hunted up a T-shirt.  It wasn't that he was upset about it; merely put out that she hadn't thought to tell him.  "It's not like I have any problem going back for now, anyway," he muttered, tossing his towel aside as he slipped the white shirt over his head.

"Listen, Anji," Baiken started to say, sheathing her sword.

"No, it's all right.  It's probably best."  Anji stepped behind the bathroom door to switch his second towel for his long pants—didn't exactly match the shirt, but it would be good enough.  "Hey, I think I'm gonna go down to the motel bar for a drink."

"Anji," Baiken tried again.  "Don't take it personally.  We could both use a break."

"Yeah, yeah."  Anji waved vaguely as he dug a few bills out of his travel pack and headed for the door.  "Don't wait up, alright?"

"Anji—"

By then Anji had closed the door behind him, a tiny sigh slipping past his lips.  He wasn't upset.  It was just difficult to deal with Baiken sometimes, because she always found a way to be right about everything.  He didn't want her to be right about this; she hadn't been there, hadn't heard that man speak so calmly and reasonably and…innocently…about everything.  She shouldn't have had any idea what he was feeling.

For a moment those concerns were forgotten when he entered the small motel bar, his eyes alighting on a familiar head of wild, pale hair among the people at the bar.  "Hey!"  A grin broke across his features as he trotted across the room.  "Chipp!"

"Oh, there you are," said the bartender with a nod.  "Mr. Mito—this man's been looking for you."

Anji chuckled as he came up behind the man in question.  "Hey there, Chipp," he laughed, slapping his shoulder.  "You're just in time—I could use a drinking partner right about now."

Perched on the barstool, Chipp turned slowly to meet Anji's friendly gaze.  It was immediately apparent to the Japanese man that something was wrong.  Chipp's usually excitable features looked weighted and dull, his eyes oddly dilated in the well-lit room.  Anji frowned.  "Chipp…?"  He gave the man's shoulder a shake.  "You okay, man?"

Chipp blinked slowly, unspeaking, and Anji was about to question him again when a thick hand wrapped suddenly around his throat.  He barely had time to realize who it was; he was being dragged away from the bar, unable to quite get his legs beneath him in time.  "Chipp—"

He hadn't thought Chipp capable of it.  Without warning he was being lifted off his feet—thrown, bodily, through the bar's glass door.  Shards scraped along his back and arms as he was sent flying into Rome's darkened streets.  He landed hard, catching the brunt of the impact with his right shoulder.  It didn't seem real; the scrape of asphalt against his back, the crazed swirl of dark buildings overhead.—the indifference in Chipp's face as he strode out of the bar after him.  Cursing, Anji pushed himself up on his knees.  But he hadn't brought his Zessen with him, and his fists curled as he started to stand.  "Chipp!  What the hell are you—"

"Mr. Mito."

Anji froze, realizing that unfamiliar voice had come from behind him.  Slowly he turned, and gasped sharply as his gaze slid over more than a dozen pairs of gleaming neon eyes—and the man at their forefront.

"You're a lot taller than I'd imagined," the stranger declared icily as Chipp moved to stand beside him.  "Mito Anji."


	15. Chapter 14

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

I'm glad everyone liked the last chapter!  Even if the next game will probably prove me wrong ^^;;.  In any case, thanks for the reviews.

Note: Baiken's hidden weapons are called _anki_, for further reference ^^

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**Culmination**

Chapter 14

Baiken sighed heavily, watching the smoke from her pipe curl in lazy spumes up towards the ceiling.  It was strange, being able to relax for a while.  Changing out of her usual travel _yukata_, relieving herself of most of her weapons—it was a very welcomed vacation, as far as she was concerned.  The only thing that could make it better would be a warm bath, which she was planning on indulging in shortly.  As soon as her pipe was burned out.  If only Anji hadn't soured her mood, it would have been perfect.

"Damn that Anji."  Baiken pushed to her feet, deciding to take her pipe with her.  It was then that she was alerted to the sound of breaking glass somewhere nearby.  She wasn't concerned, as Rome was known for far worse than the occasional bar fight.  Even if Anji were somehow involved he could handle himself, and be back to brag about it in no time.  A moment later, however, just as she was beginning to disrobe, she caught the sound of a raised voice—definitely Anji's, even if she couldn't make out the words.  He sounded upset.  That in itself was somewhat unusual for Anji, and with an annoyed curse Baiken moved to the window to investigate.

The streets of Rome were only poorly lit, and through the dirty glass she could barely make out Anji's figure at the other end of the motel.  She still wasn't all that concerned, until she realized that the dark shadows surrounding him were actually the outlines of people—men in cloaks, over a dozen of them.  

"Shit—"  She only had the chance to tighten her robe and snatch her sword from against the wall; by the time she'd jerked the motel door open and leapt out Anji was already being attacked by one of the figures.  It was moving with far greater speed than a normal man should have been capable of, and though Baiken was already sprinting towards them she knew she wasn't going to make it in time; Anji blocked as best he could but, weaponless, there was no escaping the relentless attack.  Long before Baiken reached the group he had already taken several punches to his head and gut, forcing him up against the motel wall.

"You bastard!"  Baiken twisted her shoulders when she was in close enough in range to use the only weapon she hadn't shed—a claw of curved metal slit the air, striking towards the man who was even now advancing on the dazed Anji.  When he turned to meet the attack his eyes were bright against the dark, and familiar.  Baiken gasped as the recognition came over her, and without thinking she jerked her body, diverting what could have been a lethal strike.  "Chipp—?"

Still shocked and baffled by the passing events, Baiken was slow to react.  Like wraiths the surrounding bodies descended on her from all sides, cloaks parting around drawn blades.  She whirled, swiftly countering the first two that reached her and slipping out of reach of another.  They, too, were faster than she would have expected a human to be, and it wasn't long before she realized what she was fighting.

"Damn fucking robots."  Baiken growled, the claw that served as her right arm closing around the closest robot's throat and flinging it into its companions.  She started to resume her attack, but was momentarily distracted by the sound of Anji crying out somewhere behind her.  She whirled just in time to see a flare of bright light—Chipp's ki, flashing brilliantly as it threw Anji fiercely into the nearest wall once more.  He slumped unconsciously to the ground, leaving an imprint of dark blood against the brick.

Baiken called out to him, her feet carrying her towards his fallen figure.  Her way was swiftly blocked; the robots surrounded her, and their leader—a man—took up the position directly in her path.  "Leave him to us," the man snarled from beneath his hood.

Baiken jerked her shoulder once more, aiming her sharpened weapon for the stranger's heart.  "You son of a bitch!"  In a ruffle of movement his hand shot forward; there was a dulled clang of metal, and when Baiken looked she was shocked to find her claw in the man's tight grip.  It should have ripped his hand apart….

"Impressive," the man complimented, an unnatural heat spreading down the length of his arm.  "I can use you."

Baiken started to pull back, but even then it was too late; the swell of magic was already upon her.  Blazing electricity was channeled through the darkened metal of her arm, coursing through her.  Though it only lasted a moment the pain was unbearable.  She could only cry out as her body writhed with the shock, burning, her breath frozen—until she was mercifully released, collapsing with a weak groan into the street.  Her shoulder struck hard, making her gasp quietly against unyielding pavement.

"Very good."  Somewhere above her, blurred and indistinct, the man was speaking.  "Collect Mito Anji—I'll take this one myself."

Baiken's hand tightened reflexively around her sword.  She was still trembling, barely conscious, but there was still part of her brain that registered what was happening.  She wouldn't allow it.  The street was cold against her cheek, and she stared blurrily across it to watch the robots surrounding the fallen Anji.  There…was nothing she could do for him, she knew.  But that didn't mean it was over.

When the stranger came down towards her she rolled suddenly onto her back, driving her sword upwards with all her force.  She felt the blade tear flesh and stop, tasted acidic blood against her lips that made her senses reel.  But the man had cried weakly with pain; she twisted her wrist, opening the wound in his thigh wider before scrambling to her feet.  Her limbs were slow to respond but it was just enough; a hand closed around her arm but she jerked free, bare feet scraping painfully against cruel stone as she sprinted away from her attackers.

They were following.  She could hear their weighted footsteps pounding after her, the ruffle of thick fabric as they readied for an attack.  And though she had not had to use her full ability in a long time she sheathed he sword, clasping her left hand tightly to her chest.  She wasn't used to using her ki in such a way—it had always been her defense, her unseen shield, and her fingers ached as she was forced now to collect that swelling energy inside her.

Metal digits scraped against her shoulder, drawing her back, and though Baiken had yet to completely amass her power she had no choice but to unleash the ki she had in full.  The light was blinding; Baiken herself was thrown by the impact of magic against the robots, scattering them in an instant even if only one or two were seriously damaged.  The bought time was just enough for her to dart down a darkened alley.  With her hair falling awkwardly over her face, feet blistered and breath sharp, she fled deeper into Rome's twisted buildings.

*****

The dawn seemed to rise hesitantly that morning, creeping stealthily along dull waves and golden sand.  It licked at Testament's closed eyelids for some time before finally coaxing them to open; he was sluggish, but content, as if having awoken from a deep and dreamless slumber.  Somewhere nearby, the sea was rolling in.  It was soothing, and the Gear yawned lazily as he sat up, drawing a hand through his hair.

Grains of thin sand fell through Testament's fingers; he frowned, realizing suddenly where he was.  Everything came back to him in a rush of unwanted recollection.  The cooling of night against his scars, the pulse of blood against his temples brought by his memories—and Ky's bright blue eyes, watching him intently.  He had confessed a heart of hatred and grief.  It made something curl sickly behind his ribs to wonder what the man must have thought of him now.

Testament turned slightly, trying to determine exactly where on the beach he had ended up and if the children of the House were awake.  He was startled to find Ky and Bridget, fast asleep, behind him.  He had to stare for several long moments before finally coming to understand what must have happened, what had been supporting his head through the night.

Ky's head was bowed, a few strands of yet-dyed brown hair lightly framing his face, much like they had been the morning before.  He looked peaceful despite what must have been an awkward sitting position for him, with Bridget slumped against his back, only half covered by a thin blanket.  The two of them looked inexplicably natural, nestled together with only the roll of waves and measured breath to disturb them.  Testament was caught by the sight of them, and even more so by what their presence there implied: they had stayed with him.  All through the night Ky and Bridget had watched over him, despite the horrible truths he'd spilled.  They…had accepted him.

It was when Bridget began to slip from Ky's shoulder, several minutes later, that Testament was jarred into thinking clearly.  Careful not to wake the pair he edged around them, tugging Bridget gently away from the officer.  The boy slumped against him and continued to sleep with a tiny murmur.  Testament set him aside, drawing the blanket over him until he decided what would be best—to wake them or let them rest a while longer, risking being come upon by the children.  The children….

Testament didn't have time to let his concerns resurface, as a shift of movement caught his eye.  It was Ky, falling gradually now that there was no support against his back.  Testament quickly moved to support him; Ky seemed to fall perfectly into his crooked arm, head tilting heavily against his shoulder just as he had that night in Genoa.  It was baffling, now, to imagine that incident in the rain had taken place little more than a week ago.  Everything had changed since then.  Testament couldn't have described the emotion if given the chance, but he felt as if the ache in his chest—had Bridget described it as loneliness?—had loosened, even if his throat was suddenly tight.  

However it had happened, this man was the cause.  Testament lifted his hand, drawing curious fingertips over Ky's unblemished cheek.  A week ago, it was to wipe the traces of blood from his face.  Now…he only wanted to touch, to feel for himself soft, human skin.  Ky's lips parted faintly, and though he did not stir Testament's heart fluttered a little.  He suddenly couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd really touched another this way, with deliberate affection, with…the unexpected yearning he felt now.

Had it not been for his weakened mind the night before, Ky's tender consolations and the gentle atmosphere surrounding them, he would have never acted on the strange warmth spreading through his fingertips.  But those things had happened, and with his muddled judgment Testament didn't think twice on carefully shifting the man in his arms—turning him, just enough, so that he could tilt his head down to him.  Their lips brushed, faintly at first, breath mixing across the diminishing space between them.  He felt Ky's shoulders creep up but didn't wait long enough to know if he were awakening or not.  With a dull shiver Testament crossed the last space between them, pressing their mouths together in a gentle kiss; conveying through that touch of flesh all the thick emotion swelling just beneath his surface.

Ky's lips were sweet; thin, but supple, and their tiny, surprised movements only made Testament that much less willing to release him.  It hadn't occurred to him until now that he could want this from the officer.  But when he pulled back a moment later, staring into wide, surprised blue eyes, he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again, to assure himself that the first had even existed here in this surrealistic dawn.

Ky stared up at him, stunned and blinking, lips parting to speak.  Testament wasn't ready yet to be rejected.  He lifted a hand to curl in Ky's hair, drawing him up into another, firmer kiss.  He felt Ky's hand pressing against his chest, the low murmur of protest tickling his lips, and ignored them both.  Gradually Ky began to relax against him, whether in allowance or surrender he didn't know; fingers curled against his collar bone, sharp breath hissed against his own trembling lips.  When he pulled back again it was with a quiet, gasping murmur, chilling already with the absence of another body pressed close.

Ky finally found his voice.  "Testament…."  He shifted, and the Gear obediently backed off a bit to allow him room.  Carefully, as if not trusting his body at the moment, Ky sat up on his own strength.  "You…."

"Good morning," Testament interrupted.  If Ky could just play along a moment longer, he would be satisfied.  "Thank you, for looking after me."

"I…."  Ky was looking entirely baffled as he lowered his eyes, grasping after breath that was suddenly hard to come by.  "You're welcome," he said, very quietly.  

Before he could work up the courage and inspiration to question, Testament turned, tugging Bridget into his arms.  "It's still early," he murmured.  "I'll take him inside; he can sleep a while longer."

Ky blinked dumbly.  "Oh.  All right."  Still looking too full of questions, he followed the Gear in climbing to his feet.  He shifted awkwardly before they both started hesitantly up toward the House.  "Testament…?"

"I'm all right," Testament assured, hefting Bridget's slight weight.  The boy still showed no signs of waking.  "I'm sorry, about last night.  I'll be fine."

"No, it's…all right…."  Ky looked to speak again, but his voice faltered at the last moment.  Testament tried to ignore the heavy stare upon his back as they returned to the House, in silence.

*****

Johnny didn't make an appearance at breakfast that morning, to the horror of his many fans.  When he did show it wasn't until just after, and he caught both Ky and Testament as they headed—awkwardly silent—out of the dining room.

"Well, boys, today's our day," he declared, slinging an arm around both their shoulders.  Ky tried to squirm away without success.  "I've already made the preparations—someone's taking a trip to Zepp."

Ky finally shrugged out from under Johnny's arm, giving the man a long-suffering look.  Johnny caught on quickly and tried not to look so amused.  "I can go," Ky volunteered seriously.  "It's not like even Zepp can refuse the head of the Global Police."

"Ah, but if you go, that's just like announcing to the world you're up and about," Johnny pointed out.  "Not the best coming out, is it?  To be slinking around Zepp."

"Johnny's right."  All three turned to see Bridget bouncing lightly on his feet behind them.  "And if you go in disguise, they'll ask for a visa, which you won't have unless you go as yourself, but that's no good, either."

Ky's shoulders dropped slightly.  "I don't like the idea of anyone else going," he replied.  "Johnny's a well known pirate—even if he could dock there, there's no way he'd be able to gain much information without connections within the city.  And Testament's an even more infamous Gear."  His eyes flickered to Testament briefly, as if in apology for the remark, but Testament only nodded his understanding.  The Gear was watching him intently, face calm and manner simple as if nothing had passed between them that morning.  Ky could almost feel a blush creeping into his face when their gazes met; he had no idea how to react to this situation, and Testament's unexpected actions.

Ky coughed lightly into his hand and continued.  "However we do this, it's going to be difficult."

Bridget made a show of inspecting his nails.  "It…doesn't _have_ to be…."

The three men exchanged glances.  "All right," Johnny said around a sigh.  "We're biting.  Tell us your foolproof plan."

"Well," Bridget started right into it with excitement, "you wanna get any information out of Zepp, you gotta go right to the head: President Gabriel."

Three pairs of eyes blinked stupidly at him, and he quickly continued before they could admonish him for the seemingly ridiculous suggestion.  "But of course, you can't just waltz up to President Gabriel and ask him questions, so you've got to get to his right hand man—Potemkin.  Right?"

"If we could, that would be best," Ky admitted.  "And I'm sure Potemkin would see me.  But the problem remains there's no way to even get in contact with Potemkin—if he's even in Zepp right now—without first getting past their customs."

"That's why you need a visa," Bridget told him matter-of-factly.

Johnny rolled his eyes.  "We don't _have_ a visa, Bridget."

The boy smirked mischievously.  "I do."

"You do?" came the echoed response.

"I do."  Bridget straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.  "It's back on the ship.  And an official VIP pass that'll allow me in the capital building's main compound—a first class ticket straight to Potemkin."

Clearly dubious, Johnny crossed his arms over his chest.  "Is that so?  And how, pray tell, were you able to come across something so convenient?"

"'Cause we're friends," Bridget declared proudly.  "I met Potemkin a while ago, just before I joined you guys.  We were both looking for Dizzy, and we talked for a while, and he said if I ever needed to hunt down a bounty in Zepp, I could come to him."  He bounced lightly.  "Perfect, isn't it?  I can get in and right to him and no one will suspect a thing.  I'll even go in my old bounty hunter outfit."

"I don't like the idea of you going alone," Testament said, sounding downright protective.  Ky was inordinately pleased; after everything he had said last night, there was no telling how he would react to any of the children, even someone as familiar as Bridget.  "It could be dangerous, especially if we're right and The Ninth is getting his technology and supplies through Zepp."

Bridget shot him a look as if to say he were being absolutely ridiculous.  "Dangerous?  In broad daylight, in a crowded city, in the capital building compound?"  Bridget set his hands on his hips.  "Exactly how many things are there that can get through Potemkin?"

Johnny shrugged.  "He's got a point."

"I don't like it either," Ky admitted.  "The thought of you there alone…."

"Youn's going with him," Johnny spoke up in the boy's defense.  "He can't exactly run around in the city, but he can wait with the ship if there's trouble."

Bridget nodded exuberantly.  "And we already know I'm fast—I can outrun the robots.  If I get into trouble I can run back to the ship and we're out, or get to Potemkin.  No-brainer, fool-proof plan."  He turned suddenly to Ky, his manner growing a bit more serious.  "I've been hunting bounties for a while now, you know.  I can take care of myself, and I can do this.  Please?"  His eyes gleamed with determination.  "Trust me, okay?"

"Bridget…."  Ky sighed, resigning himself to the decision he could see had already been made.  Bridget simply looked too eager, and after all the boy had done for him, he couldn't claim now not to trust him.  "All right.  I do trust you, Bridget.  If you think you'll be all right…" he smiled thinly, "…then we'll leave it in your hands."

"Yes!"  Bridget bounded forward, flinging his arms around Ky's neck in a firm hug.  "Thanks, Ky!  You can count on me—I promise.  I'm gonna get so much information for you it'll bubble out your ears!"

Ky chuckled and returned the hug lightly.  "I'll have to fill you in, though, on what the three of us talked about yesterday.  We'll need some specific information."

"Right!  I'm gonna run back to the ship and change—I'll be back in just a minute."  Without waiting for a response the boy sped off on light feet. 

Ky sighed quietly as he watched him go.  "He'll be all right, won't he?  I still don't like this."

"There's no use worrying about it," Testament replied.  "Bridget can look after himself well enough, and he's right—Zepp is a lot safer for him than Rome was.  We'll just have to trust him."

"Yes…you're probably right."

Ky lifted his gaze to the Gear hesitantly once more, trying to puzzle out what he might have been thinking.  How dare he look so casual when Ky himself was so puzzled and flustered.  To have been awoken so suddenly….  He hadn't been kissed like that in a long time.  And though his better sense was already weighing the experience down, he needed to know why.  He had to know for sure…exactly what was happening between them.

Johnny seemed to notice the way they were looking at each other, and he took a diplomatic step back.  "Well, I'll go tell Youn, then," he volunteered.  "Everything should be just about set by now—it's only a few hour trip back to Italy, and then maybe we'll get some answers, hm?  I'll let you know when they're about to go."  With one last curious glance between the pair he left, abandoning the two of them to their talk.

They stood still for several moments, silent and awkward, neither knowing where to begin.  At long last it was Ky who acted first; he took Testament by the arm, guiding him away from the dining hall—and any curious eyes that may have fallen on them.  When they were safe in one of the lobby's side rooms, he turned to face the Gear squarely.  "Testament."

"Ky."  Testament returned his gaze as calmly and innocently as possible.

"Testament," Ky repeated, trying not to look as anxious as he felt.  "About this morning…I hope you're feeling better," he darted around the issue at the last moment.

"I am," Testament assured with a nod.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Another silence followed; Testament certainly didn't seem like he was going to make this easy on him.  But a moment later the Gear said, "I'm sorry," his tone even and with little sincerity.  There was no regret for his actions in his voice or manner.  "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Ky, flinching as he hadn't expected either of them to be able to express their thoughts so quickly, shook his head.  "It's not that.  You…surprised me, of course.  It's just that I—"

"Didn't expect it?" Testament filled in, watching him with those same oddly peaceful eyes.  "Don't like the taste of Gears?"  His eyebrow tipped.  "Prefer women?"

 "No, it's nothing like that," he quickly defended himself, though he realized a moment later what he was admitting to.  His face darkened as he turned his head away from Testament's unfaltering gaze.  "That is…it isn't appropriate.  You and I…I just don't think it's what either of us intended."

Testament watched him a moment longer, still unmoved and expression unchanging.  Finally he reached out—slowly, so that by the time his fingertips alighted on Ky's cheek he hadn't even noticed they were there.  The officer flinched a little but didn't draw away.  Testament's fingers were unnaturally smooth for a fighter, his flesh warm with the pulse of magic that surged just beneath it.  He couldn't bring himself to reject them.

Testament tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes deep with some strange emotion Ky wasn't in his senses enough to interpret.  When he spoke, his voice was a quiet murmur vibrating the air between them.  "It's not.  Is that so bad?"

"Testament…" Ky started to reply, but the hand on his face was already sliding to his neck, Testament's thumb pressing gently into the underside of his jaw to tilt it up.  Ky shivered as he was slowly drawn in.  He squirmed just a little, hands rising to press against Testament's chest, but they were already too close—thick, warm lips found his mouth easily.  Unlike earlier that morning, Ky was no longer inhibited by the daze of having just awoken.  He could feel everything clearly: the gentle movements of Testament's coaxing, hopeful lips; the rise and fall of ancient magic that seemed to flow right into them; his own body's foolish reactions, tiny heated shivers tracing up and down his spine.  This was not what he had wanted from the Gear—the camaraderie they'd managed to forge was already more than he had ever expected, had ever thought possible.  But here, feeling his heart begin to pound a little faster the longer they stayed together, he couldn't deny that he thought Testament…beautiful.  Powerful.  Compassionate, even, if he could ever dip deeply enough into his lost humanity.  Testament, who had saved him, consoled him, depended on him….

They pulled back with twin, faint gasps, hesitantly meeting each other's gaze.  Testament's blush shone clearly against his pale skin—the look of him alone was suddenly enough to make Ky's chest tighten a little, with thick black hair framing his flushed face and vibrant eyes.  Their breath echoed tensely in the room.

Testament took a step back, straightening as if overcoming some of his own embarrassment.  "There's…something I have to do today," he said quietly, calling the matter to a close for the moment.  They would both need time to gather their thoughts.  "We can talk about it later."

"Yes…."  Ky lowered his head, nodding somewhat vaguely.  "Yes, a little later."

"Thank you again, Ky.  For taking care of me last night."  But before Ky could find a response to give the Gear had turned, striding calmly out of the room and leaving Ky to the suddenly tangled workings of his mind.


	16. Chapter 15

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Just wanted to say again, thanks everyone for the reviews ^o^.  I know I don't say much in the way of author notes and that sort of thing, but I really appreciate the support, especially since this is my first GG fic.  Thanks, guys!

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**Culmination**

Chapter 15

Dizzy smiled happily to herself as she pulled the brush through Bridget's long blond hair, all the while listening to his cheerful prattling.  He'd asked that she join him on the ship for some favor he wanted to ask, and now that that had been concluded, she'd agreed to help him get ready for his trip to Zepp.  So far that had included telling him his outfit looked good, brushing his hair, and listen to him list his credentials for how qualified he was for this mission.

"Besides, Ky needs my help," Bridget concluded, shaking his head slightly to get all of his hair behind his shoulders for Dizzy to take care of.  "So I'll do my part."

Dizzy's smile deepened as she finished with the brush and sat back.  "You really like Ky, don't you?"

"Yup!  He's amazing."  Bridget spun around to face her, his eyes bright and excited.  "He's strong, and smart, and serious, and…and amazing!  I'm going to be just like him."  

"Oh?  That's a lot to live up to."

"Of course it is.  He's my idol."

"I see."  Dizzy's eyes thinned in quiet humor as she watched Bridget make the final preparations to his attire and pull on his hat.  "You really care about him."

Bridget paused, caught by the subtle softening of her voice just then.  When he glanced back at her his cheeks were reddened shyly.  "Well…yeah.  Like I said—he's my idol."  He turned back around, making sure his shirt was straight.  "He's the best guy I've ever met.  And he's doing so much to take care of everyone…I want to do this for him.  So make sure he stays put here and relaxes.  Oh—and finish that thing I asked you about."

"Of course."  Still smiling Dizzy stood, crossing to the door.  "Shall we go?  I'm sure everyone's going to want to see you off."

"Sure!"

The pair left the ship, traveling the short distance across the airfield to where the small craft they would be taking was waiting.  Johnny and Youn were there with the Jellyfish Pirates, as well as Ky and Testament.  Bridget hopped up to Johnny and gave him a stiff salute.  "Jellyfish Pirate Bridget, preparing to depart on Top Secret mission!" he announced proudly.

Johnny smirked.  "Permission to depart granted," he returned in kind.  "Good luck."

Bridget nodded, and as Youn said his goodbyes to the crew he turned to Ky and Testament.  "I'll be back soon with all the information you could possibly want!"

Ky smiled, and shook his hand.  "Just remember everything we told you," he said.  "What we really need to know is where their factory is."

"Right—leave it to me."  Still beaming, Bridget shook Testament's hand and sent Dizzy one last grin before boarding the ship after Youn.

Dizzy stood back as the ship took off, and those that had gathered to wish their friends well began to scatter.  She thought she might have caught a glimpse of something uncertain in Ky's face as he started back towards the House, but she didn't have time to wonder; Testament was striding purposefully towards her, and she straightened, a little wary of what he might have to say.  He looked serious.

"Dizzy," he began with a slight nod.  "I'm sorry, if I worried you last night.  I…."  He hesitated, uncharacteristically so.  "I have a favor to ask of you."

Dizzy straightened curiously.  "Yes?"

"I want you to teach me how to use my magic to heal."

*****

Ky sighed appreciatively as the jets of warm water fell over him, sliding through his hair and onto stiff shoulders, easing the tensions from his body brought on by too much contemplation and confusion.  Having returned to the House in something of a daze he had quickly realized this was the only solution—a warm shower to clear his mind and relieve his sore limbs.  Parts of his back were yet sensitive but the sting was only minor, enough that he could ignore it in favor of healing steam.  As far as he was concerned it was pure bliss, and he managed to keep his worries at bay long enough to rinse the sand off him, and scrape the lingering bits of nail polish from his fingers.  His only lament was in that he wasn't yet able to clean the stubborn dye from his hair.  Not because Testament had said he preferred its original shade—nothing like that, he assured himself.  He simply was ready to start feeling like himself again.

Eventually, though, Ky's earlier musings got the better of him, and he stood still a while under the heated streams as he sorted them into place.  There were too many things to consider: the Ninth and his robots and what they meant to his order; Baiken and Anji waiting for them in Rome with no knowledge of the danger that could be pursuing them even now; Bridget's journey alone to Zepp and whether or not he'd be able to gather Potemkin's help; Testament's confessions from the night before, his suffering and hate….

And the kiss shared that morning.  He could remember it clearly with so much warmth already surrounding him, and it made him shift slightly, as if fearful that someone could see his faint blush.  It had been so long since he'd taken a lover that even the memory of those lips against him were enough to curl something in his stomach.  After everything, to think that Testament might…care for him that way….  He had no idea what answer to give, or even if Testament was asking for one.

Ky sighed, trying to turn his thoughts away from such subjects—it was foolish, and selfish for him to be considering something so reckless and sentimental when there were lives at stake, maybe even in jeopardy at this moment.  Especially considering this was Testament, a Gear….

Ky's mind twisted, taking his curiosity back those many decades.  He was suddenly wishing that Testament had shared yet more with him on the beach that night.  Even if Testament claimed his former life made no difference to him now, there were still years of human existence buried somewhere in his memory.  Ky couldn't help but wonder what kind of person he had once been before he was tainted and converted; could he have been the quiet children's playmate that he had seen eating breakfast with the girls aboard Mayship?  The compassionate listener Ky himself had spilled his secrets to?  Perhaps he had not been so different from Ky himself, an officer of the Holy Order during the war, struggling against impossible odds for the sake of a peace that seemed distantly out of reach.  There were so many things he did not yet know and would have liked to ask.  About his life, the father he had mentioned—if Sol had been as difficult and reckless then as he was now.

Ky's eyes slid slowly open, taking in the space of tile ahead of him, the paths of water across its surface.  He felt the liquid sliding along his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth.

Testament had known Sol while he was still human.

Gradually, Ky straightened, fingers curling when the implication behind Testament's words finally became clear to him.

*****

Bridget had told himself that he was going to sleep through the ride to Zepp so that he would arrive rested and eager.  He should have known better.  The entire way he bounced in his seat, checking his yo-yos again and again, chattering on with Youn about one thing or the other to pass the time.  It seemed to take forever.  He expressed as much to his companion often—already quite used to childish insistence, Youn agreed each time with a smile.  And then Bridget would happily repeat the cycle over.

Truthfully, the small craft made good time despite its small size.  With the wind on their side it was only a few short hours later that the dark, formidable shadow against the sky began to clearly form the shape of a city.  Bridget leaned forward against his seat harnesses to better see.  Even in the early afternoon the sky surrounding Zepp was coated and dark, thick spumes of heavy black smoke rising from the countless silos and buildings, giving the floating mass a foreboding air.  The country that had started as a tiny dot on the horizon was now an immeasurable mass of sculpted iron filling the windows of their small craft.  Bridget had expected it to be grand, but he had never imagined something so enormous—as if it were a city plucked right out of the ground and given flight.  The perimeter was jagged, the underside a mess of protruding metal shapes surrounded by whirling iridescent light.  It reminded him of a whale, and indeed the array of airships darting in and out of its ports resembled tiny fish, the buzzing of their engines drowned out the by the low, droning hum of the city itself.

"Is…that it?" Bridget said anxiously, his eyes wide and excited.  "That's really Zepp…."

"Yes," the man at his side confirmed, his own voice tipped with awe.  "I've seen it twice before, but it never ceases to amaze me."  He turned their small craft toward a large transport barge, which was heading for what might have been a dock on the side closest to them.  "Are you ready?"

Bridget gulped.  "Yeah.  I…didn't think it'd be so big."

"Will you be able to find Potemkin all right?"

"Yeah—yes!  Yes, I'll be fine."  

Bridget puffed himself up, leaning back once more as he watched the city surge toward them like a tidal wave.  

*****

The first few hours of the day Testament spent in quiet concentration in one of the House's many rooms.  He had been serious when he made his request of Dizzy, and she had responded in kind, sharing with him all that she had managed to learn and adapt.  It was difficult to know if he was making any progress, given that he had no one to practice on—being both Gears themselves their own instinctual healing would render any test of his magic unreliable, and neither would even consider for a moment using someone else as a test subject.  Still, Testament had always been a master at the manipulation of magic, and though he wasn't used to projecting the more docile side of his abilities, with time he came to grasp the concepts Dizzy was doing her best to explain.  

She was pleased with him.  He had always been relieved when in her favor, and her simple, calm company helped to quell the lingering apprehension left over from the night before.  He was still a little anxious about meeting with the children again, especially if some of them took to questioning him about his absence from the last dinner.

"Then you don't have to see them," Dizzy answered simply, her smile slight but sincere.  They were seated together on the bed, enjoying the breeze seeping through the open windows.  "There's no need to push yourself, Testament.  You've done so much already, and…I understand, that you need time."  She squeezed his hand gently.  "I'm just so relieved that you've already come this far."  She ducked her head.  "I'm proud of you."

"Dizzy."  Testament sighed quietly, placing his other hand over their already joined ones.  "Thank you.  I…would like to try."

"I know."  She straightened, giving her wings a small shake.  "You can stay with me today, if you want," she suggested.  "I promised Bridget I'd work on something for him, so I'll be staying put most of the day.  If you needed some time away from everyone."

Testament was admittedly tempted by the offer, but a moment later he was able to call back to him other matters that deserved more attention than him hiding away.  "Thank you.  But…I think I should go find Ky."

"Ky?" Dizzy echoed curiously.  "He was acting rather…reserved, this morning."

She was silent a moment, her lips tipped in a thoughtful frown that Testament was easily able to interpret—he saved her from asking.  "He stayed with me last night," he explained.  "And I think I may have…distressed him, somewhat.  I don't want there to be a misunderstanding between us."

Dizzy giggled quietly, and he frowned, watching her.  "What is it?"

"It's just kind of cute," Dizzy admitted shyly.  "Ky seems to attract very different kinds of people to him."

"You mean…Bridget?"

"Yes, actually.  I think he's quite taken with him."  She tilted her head to the side.  "And the two of you have spent a lot of time together lately.  I almost wouldn't have thought it possible."

"Nor I," Testament agreed, a thin smile pulling at the edges of his lips.  "But…he's tolerable, for a human."

Dizzy sighed, shaking her head.  "I really mean it," she protested.

Testament's eyes softened.  "Yes, I know.  And yes, we have been…getting along."  He wasn't sure what to call it anymore.  Something had happened between them.  Or maybe just to Testament himself.  "I must admit that I feel very close to him.  We are, perhaps, not as different as I would have once believed."

Dizzy watched him, her eyes widening when she seemed to realize that he was telling the truth.  "I'm glad," she said softly, her voice thickening with elated emotion.  "I really am."

"As am I."  Testament pushed to his feet, passing a hand back through his hair to push it from his shoulders.  "Thank you, Dizzy, for your help.  Though I should hope I never have to use such power."

"Of course."  Dizzy was still smiling as her eyes followed him to the door.  "If you feel anxious at all, you can come back," she offered.  "I'll be here."

"Yes, thank you."  With a slight nod Testament left the room.

Once outside, Testament took in a deep breath of the salty air.  He hadn't been lying earlier—his demeanor had greatly improved from the state he had found himself in last night, thanks to the efforts of so many people looking out for him.  Especially Ky.  The irony was enough to draw a quiet chuckle from him as he ventured to the lower level of the House.  Ky, global leader and killer of Gears, had cradled him in his lap through the night.  It was mysterious, and warming, making him wonder what words he could possibly conjure for when he faced the man again.

Especially after….

Testament's thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a flare against his senses—a surge of magic of some kind, closer than it should have been.  He would have been concerned if not for the cheer of children's voices that followed.  Frowning, he made his way outside on long strides.  Of all the things he would have expected to find, what he came upon was not one of them.

Many of the House's children had gathered, seated in the sand or on small beach chairs, their attention cast anxiously inward to what was a surprising spectacle: Johnny and Ky circling each other, barefoot and swords brandished.  The former had shed his coat and hat and was grinning smugly to himself—his opponent, however, was as stone-faced as Testament had ever seen him.  As the Gear watched they gauged each other carefully over the tops of their blades, and struck together.  Thunderseal, bearing odd colors, moved in a wide, sweeping arch, Johnny's katana in sharp swipes, the pair of them meeting only in brief moments of reflected light and metal.  Johnny was on the defensive, a bit of clever footwork keeping him safely out of Ky's striking distance, as they were both aware that his katana could never stand up to the weight and power behind Ky's prized sword.  They met, parted, and circled, adorned by the cheers of their audience.  Testament came forward slowly, carefully watching the sparring match as it continued.

"Keep an eye on our feet," Johnny was saying, and though his voice was light there was no doubt that, behind his sunglasses, his eyes never swayed from Ky's moving form.  "In fighting your balance is everything, and nothing can topple you as easily as poor footwork.  Always be light on your feet.  Like this!"

Johnny leapt, bringing his sword down in a vertical slash—Ky pivoted on his left foot, taking him easily out of the attack.  With that slight momentum he turned all the way around, intending a strike to Johnny's uncovered back.  But the pirate was expecting as much, and as he landed he ducked, allowing Ky's sword to pass over him.  When he extended his leg in a sweep it was then Ky who took briefly to the air, landing away from him, allowing Johnny to rise to his feet once more.

"Get him, Johnny!" May hollered from the sidelines, and was echoed eagerly by her companions.

Testament frowned as he reached the line of children, his eyes following the duel a while longer as the pair continued to trade blows.  He turned to one of the girls at his side.  "What's going on?"

"Mr. Kiske was practicing out here by himself," she piped up, eyes bright with excitement, "so Johnny asked if he wanted a match.  Isn't it cool?"

Testament nodded vaguely and went back to watching them.  Something was wrong in this.  Though Johnny was still speaking easily to the children, playing the part of a demonstrating teacher, Ky's eyes were sharp and intense as if in real combat.  There was a line of tension in his spine that should not have been there for so innocent an exercise.  His musings were confirmed when a vein of electricity slipped from Thunderseal's tip during their next exchange, sending a puff of sand into the air where it impacted.  The children were impressed, but Johnny must have seen the slip of control for what it was, as the muscles of his jaw tightened.

With Ky fighting seriously it was only a matter of time before the pirate found himself felled, on his back in the sand with a sword tip at his throat.  The crowd was a mixture of cheers and disappointment at the abrupt end of the match.  Ky turned, without offering any remark or assistance as he moved several paces away from his brief opponent.  And he stood there, posture stiff and voice unused, long after Johnny had been helped to his feet and returned his hat.

It was then, while the children were focused on Johnny and his well-fought match, that Testament took it upon himself to approach the unmoving officer.  It was a little intimidating with still so many people about, but he did his best to pay them no mind.  He was only watching Ky now, the tension that was still apparent in his shoulders and his grip around Thunderseal's handle.  Frowning, he called to him.  "Ky."

Ky flinched, and some of the children hushed as he turned to flicker his gaze back at the approaching Gear.  His expression faltered; from stern attention, to confusion, to shame, and then again into hardened intensity.  "Yes?"

"What is all this?" Testament asked evenly.

Ky tipped his chin up slightly.  "Just some exercise.  To work out some extra energy."

Testament considered the man for a long time, trying to puzzle out the unusually coarse tone of his voice.  He recognized it—that voice that he had heard on _Mayship_'s wing, not long ago.  That night when they had spoken of Sol….

The answer came to him suddenly, and Testament's eyes thinned as he realized what was taking place in front of him. He felt a sudden surge of bitterness in his chest for the man who caused Ky's expression to harden, his hands to tremble tensely at his sides.  Ky knew.  "It's him, isn't it?" he asked, and it wasn't until Ky flinched that he realized how similar he had sounded to Ky's greeting to him the night before.

"…Yes."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Ky replied tersely.  "I just need to deal with it.  In my own way."  Though his face was hard his hand was shaking a little, as was clear from the tiny trough Thunderseal's tip was carving in the sand.

Testament didn't say anything for a long moment, feeling the eyes slip between him and Ky, listening to the soft, confused murmurs spreading behind them.  He could imagine Johnny's worried look without having to see him.  And though Testament had not come here prepared to face Ky in such a state as he was in now, he was not about to abandon him to it, either.

His fists curled at his sides.  "Then fight me."

Ky started, turning to face him squarely with a bewildered look.  "What?"

"Fight me," Testament repeated, clasping his hands together.  A swell of magic drew into form the curved blade and long wood of his scythe.  It rested heavily in his grip.  "If you need to take it out on someone, take it out on me."

Their eyes met, unblinking and without falter, and Ky stood a little taller, his face a mix of frustration over tightly concealed pain.  But by then Thunderseal was already humming in his grip.

*****

Following the excitement of having reached the city and swept easily through Zeppian customs and checkings, Bridget found himself suffering the first bouts of uncertainty.  Youn had been made to wait at the docks, having no visa himself, leaving Bridget alone in unfamiliar streets.  Everything was busy and loud, from the people milling about to the sounds of distant machinery and the low, constant rumble of the city doing its best to stay afloat.  It was making his ears ring; he earned several pointed and condescending glares as he kept his hands clasped to the sides of his head for the first several minutes he spent wandering about.  There seemed to be streets twisting off in every direction, each as smelly an unappealing as the others.

"Stupid Zepp."  Bridget kicked idly at the ground as he made his way further into the city.  No one looked very helpful or very willing to give him directions.  He had figured he'd just be able to head for the tallest building and that would be the capital, but…all of the buildings were tall, and ugly, and none of them looked right.  "I'm going to have to ask," he thought aloud, quite disconcerted by the entire affair, trivial as it seemed.  He had been hoping for a triumphant, confident beginning to his mission.

Bridget asked around to a few people, and from them received clipped responses and half-hearted directions; they could tell, he realized, that he wasn't a native.  And though he bristled indignantly there was nothing he could do about it.  "Come on, Bridget," he said to himself as he marched down the street an old man had vaguely indicated.  "Let's find us a Potemkin."

At least, he would have, if not for the sudden murmur he caught spreading behind him.  Curiously Bridget turned, and he gasped quietly at the sight of the figure making its way down the street.  With a quiet eep he ducked behind a building corner so that he could watch without being spotted; though why his vigil required such caution, he could not have explained.

The man was clearly not from Zepp, judging by the amount of attention he was gathering from the bystanders, more so than Bridged had attracted a while ago.  He was tall, and thickly built—a tattered black and red shirt was stretched tightly over his wide chest, pale, faded jeans encasing muscled thighs and long, sturdy limbs.  His skin was tanned from years of exposure to the elements, though the effects of that same lifestyle had not been quite so kind to the mess of brown hair secured at the back of his skull.  Everything about him was coarse and worn, from the cuff of his gloves to the bored frown twisting his features, the dull gleam against his sword as he strode purposefully forward.  The tarnished metal at his belt bore the crudely carved word, "Free."

Bridget held his breath when he realized what he was looking at—it was Sol Badguy, the legendary mercenary that Anji had talked about.  He had the sword, the belt, and the headband, just as had been described.  This was him, striding so boredly through Zepp's busy streets, as if having no idea of how remarkable he looked.  Bridget's sprits were dampened only by the thought that it was this man that had caused Ky such distress back in Rome.  If Ky knew he were here….

But Ky wasn't here, and this…this was his opportunity.  If Sol was here, if he, as Ky had believed, knew what was happening, then he might have information.  Or, at the very least, know where to find Potemkin.

Bridget licked his lips.  He was going to have to get his attention somehow, to make sure that Sol wouldn't just brush him aside.  It would have to be something good.

With a deep breath Bridget snuck out from behind the building, following the crowd until he was a good distance ahead of the man, hopefully without having been spotted.  From there he turned and broke into a run.  With so many people about and given his already short stature Sol didn't see his approach.  Soon Bridget was close enough that he could hear the man muttering under his breath, could make out the dull gleam of his eyes.

He brought his foot back, and kicked Sol in the shin as hard as he could. 


	17. Chapter 16

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Okay, so my sister and I were fighting once as Ky and Testament (which was a mistake because I'm bad with Testament and she's a button-masher), and at the end of the match she did Greed Sever at the same time that I did Gravedigger.  Collided in mid-air and looked awesome.  And thus the inspiration for the fight scene in this chapter.

She beat me, by the way.

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 16

Trouble always found Sol Badguy when he was minding his own damn business.

He had just made it through the customs after a lengthy debate with several pale-faced agents and officers.  He had to give them some credit—they looked positively terrified of him and still managed to detain him for over an hour as his visa was run again and again.  He didn't come through Zepp often, so it hadn't occurred to him that his visa was, by now, twenty years out of date.  Usually Zepp would overlook something like that, especially for a bounty hunter, but he didn't look the sixty years old his visa indicated he should.  In fact, he didn't look as if he'd aged a day from the old photo pasted in his papers.  In the end, he had somehow convinced them that certain foreign liquors helped preserve his youthful appearance, and trod off beneath their wide, puzzled stares.

Now, he was facing a different problem.  He knew what he was supposed to be doing, but he didn't suspect that Potemkin would be particularly overjoyed to see him—if he could even get that far.  President Gabriel's guards were not going to be nearly as lax as his border officers.  Chances were he wouldn't even be able to get a word to Potemkin.  Which mean some illegal business may be in order.

"He'd better see me," Sol muttered under his breath, "for Slayer's sake."

It was during these idle thoughts of his that someone cracked a baseball bat against his left shin.

"God_damn_it!"

Everyone turned to stare as Sol hobbled back a few steps, cursing and shaking his stinging leg.  His hand went reflexively to Fireseal's handle as he swept the streets, looking for his attacker.  Everyone was staring at him, disconcerted but without suspicion, and he was starting to think he'd lost his mind until the voice of a child started wailing just at his feet.  He turned his eyes down, and suddenly wished it really had been a madman with a bat.  "Fucking Christ…."

It was a young blond girl, probably early teens, dressed in a ridiculous blue and white hat and dress.  Bawling her eyes out.  And as if it couldn't get any worse, she was gripping her leg and crying, "My leg!  He kicked me!  He—He kicked me!"

Sol stared at her for a long moment, his face contorting into such a look of disgusted confusion as had not graced his worn features for a long time.  Everyone was staring at them—nothing good could come of this.  Pursing his lips into a graceless frown, he started quickly past her.

And then, as if from some B-rated horror movie from his long past youth, a pair of arms secured themselves firmly to his—still throbbing—left shin.

"You—you kicked me!  You big meanie, you broke my leg!  You kicked me, you—"

"I didn't fucking kick you!" Sol snapped, trying to shake her off without hurting her _too_ badly.  But by then she had taken a firm grip of the leather straps around his thigh, and when he tried to take a step she came right along with him.  "What—let go!  What do you want?"

"You kicked me!  You broke my leg!" she continued to wail over and over, only growing in volume when Sol reached down to pry at her fingers.  She was stronger than she looked.  By now everyone up and down the street was staring at them, calling much more attention than Sol had hoped to gather on this trip.  Finally, it didn't seem like he had a choice; he bent down long enough to twist one muscled arm around the girl's waist, lifting her clear off the ground so he could march at least out of view.  It was more difficult that he'd expected—the weighted belt she wore felt like iron, and his brow furrowed in confusion as he dragged her, still gripping his thigh, to a nearby street corner.

"Shut up—shut up already," Sol groaned as he set her down and crouched beside her, giving up on trying to get her to let go.  "I'm…fuck."  He rolled his eyes.  "I'm sorry, all right?  Now will ya just shut the hell up?  Your leg's not broken."

She stopped crying abruptly, lifting wide, glistening eyes.  "It's not?"

"Of course not."  No one who could walk carrying a hunk of iron like she was could have their bones break just from running into him. At least…he hoped not.  "So cut it out—you're fine."

"Oh."  She started to wipe her face on the back of her glove, then paused, reaching forward to grab the strip of red fabric hanging from his belt to blow her nose in.

"Hey!"  He snatched it back with a scowl.  "What the hell are you doing?"

"Take me to Potemkin."

Sol blinked dumbly, and when his eyes fell again on her face she was watching him with all the childish determination a girl that young could muster.  "What the hell are you talking about?" he muttered.

"I need to find Potemkin, but I can't find him," she explained, lower lip swollen in a pout.  "So you have to take me, because you kicked me."

"I didn't kick you," Sol protested.  But he couldn't help but be curious, and, keeping a careful eye on her, he asked, "What makes you think Potemkin will see you?"

"'Cause we're friends," she replied without falter, and to his shock she produced a badge bearing the Presidential seal—any guard who saw it would at least have to pass a message on to Potemkin.  Maybe…his luck had changed after all.

When Sol looked at the girl again he changed his mind back—she was smiling hopefully at him like an eager puppy, and it was…sickening.  That had never worked on him.  But if this girl had some relationship to Potemkin, then letting her tag along could at least get him inside.  All he needed was to be able to let Potemkin know he was there.

"All right," Sol regretfully decided.  "I'll take you to Potemkin.  So stop staring at me like that and let's go."  He started to stand up, but her hands had found his thigh straps again, tugging him back down.  He glowered at her.  "What now?"

She lifted both arms in the air.  "Carry me."

"No."  No discussion, no consideration on that.  "Your leg's fine—you can walk on your own."

"It still hurts!" she insisted, waving her hands at him.  "You gotta carry me!"

Sol sent her one of his more lethal glares.  "I'm not fucking carrying you."

The girl watched him a moment, hands frozen in the air, expression stern.  But all at once her face crumpled; her eyes widened, brow creasing and mouth drooping in a childish pout.  Her chin began to tremble as her eyes glistened with fresh tears.  She began to take in a long, trembling breath.

"No!"  Sol clapped a hand over her mouth before she could start to cry again.  "Fine—fine!  I'll…goddamn carry you."

In an instant, her expression brightened again, and she tugged his hand away.  "Good!  Turn around."

Sol groaned, but…he didn't have a choice.  Muttering under his breath about damn women he turned, offering his back and staying still as his charge clamored up onto him.  A giggle assured him that she was situated well enough, and with a sigh that came from his pride he pushed to his feet.  He could still feel a few lingering stares on him as he started down the street once more, this time not alone.  

Damn him, for minding his own business.  "So, kid."  Without really wanting to he reached back, hooking his elbows under her knees.  "What's you damn name, anyway?"

She squirmed, twisting her arms around his neck and leaning close.  "I'm Bridget," came the chirped response.  "A bounty hunter, like you.  And you should know…"

A mischievous chuckle tickled his ear.  "I'm a boy."

*****

Their blades met in a blur, clashing violently close to the sand and spitting up grains around their bare feet.  Testament was swift, as always, the curved scythe easily parrying each of Ky's sharp attacks.  They closed, and when Testament's greater bulk pushed Ky back he felt a splash of ocean water against his ankles.  He leapt to the side and spun—they met again, and this time Ky twisted his wrist, drawing the Testament's scythe away from his body and managing to land a kick to his gut that forced him away.

Ky had been hoping that Thunderseal's familiar grip clenched in his fist would help to center his whirling mind—he had ventured out onto the beach that morning for that purpose, to let the well-trained exercises guide his body into simple tranquility.  It wasn't until Johnny had appeared, suggesting a more interesting opponent than the afternoon heat, that he realized how mistaken his assumptions had been.  Fighting had never brought him peace.  Practicing only ever reminded him of the necessity of battle; honing his skills only awakened years of instinct he had been hoping to repress.  There were too many memories laid into the worn handle of his weapon, in the feeling of sweat dampening his hair and creeping into his eyes.  And facing Johnny, no simple opponent, had only heightened the anxiety heating his blood all morning.

It was Ky who brought magic into their sparring—a thin vein of lightning crackled against Testament's hastily prepared barrier.  It seemed to open a door between them, and from then Ky thought nothing of launching a more serious magical attack.  At least Johnny was sensible enough to urge their child audience back several meters, keeping them far out of range as the combatants circled.

Testament wasn't helping.  Ky knew what the Gear was trying to do—allowing him to work out his frustration and confusion through adrenaline and relief.  But it had never worked that way for him.  His strength was just as lamentable to him as it was precious, because here, within whirling blades, was where he lost himself.  He saw his enemy and little else.  And the fact that Testament was a Gear, his magic old and familiar to him, only drew their reality into a smear of sweat and rampant energy around him.  

"It's not fair," Ky heard his voice hiss, somewhere amidst the clang of metal and humming seals.  "It's not right."

He ducked under Testament's scythe, and when he righted himself the Gear was watching him very closely, his eyes narrowed and intense.  "You never knew?"

"Of course I knew!"  Something in him hardened.  Something grew cold, and trembling.  "Even if I couldn't think it, my heart knew."

A flash of red passed Ky's gaze, weighing his blade down and pressing the tips of both weapons into the sand.  "Then why are you so upset?"

"He never told me!"  It had never seemed real before.  He had never had proof.

Ky's grip tightened around Thunderseal, and it flared brightly, driving its captor off.  For a moment Testament was left open, and Ky charged.  The gleam of red irises caused him to forget where he was; this was a Gear.  This was his enemy.  And when Testament bought his wooden handle before him quickly enough to block he felt a thrill of anger—he should have been able to beat him.  He was stronger than this.

"Is that what's really bothering you?"

"Shut up!"

Ky spun in a tight circle, a short jump taking him into the air as his sword arched over his head and came slashing downward.  Testament jumped at the same time—his scythe spun forward, and though Thunderseal drove the blade back, Testament allowed the momentum to twist his weapon about, aiming the blunt handle for Ky's midsection.  It caught hard, winding him, and he was forced to retreat a step as he gathered his breath back to him.  Testament, meanwhile, was still watching him.  This battle was affecting him, too; his eyes were narrowed and face strained as he gave Ky the moment he needed to regain his balance.

And Ky hated that.  He didn't need a moment.  He needed to win.

With a growl Ky charged again, his limbs burning as he brought Thunderseal around in a lateral strike at full force.  Testament met him head on; their blades screeched madly against the impact and there halted, locked and trembling as if they themselves were long-forged enemies.

Their eyes met over the combating weapons—it was a familiar position for them both, and distantly, Ky's chest began to ache.  It was a tension he well recognized, like instinct itself sliding into place and twisting his features.  "Damn him," he hissed, gaze unfaltering from gleaming crimson Gear eyes.

"Ky, calm down."  Though he realized it was Testament speaking the voice seemed to distort around him, and he heard only the unnatural hiss surrounding it.  "There's no need for this."

"Damn_ you_!" Ky retorted, his bare feet pawing at the ground as he tried to overpower his opponent.  "He betrayed me—he was a Gear all along!"

Their weapon's shifted, giving off sparks as blades slid until Thunderseal's hilt was pressed up against the skull adornment on Testament's scythe.  Testament clenched his jaw.  "He's no different than me."

"He's a goddamned _Gear_!"

"So am I!"

A cold shudder went through the officer, hands clenching involuntarily—in a burst of unintended magic Testament's scythe was sent pinwheeling away as Thunderseal plunged downward, narrowly missing flesh and bone and burying deep in the sand.  The children gasped, and for one, horrified instant, Ky thought the wayward blade would strike their audience.  It was Johnny's quick reflexes that halted the scythe in mid air, catching it by the long handle.

Ky's shoulder's sagged, and abruptly Thunderseal slipped from his sweating grip.  "Testament…."  His adrenaline had fled, leaving him cold, dazed, and ashamed as his surroundings sharpened back into focus.  It was only Testament standing before him, breathing hard but his expression calm.  The children, however, were stunned into silence, their eyes on him a mix of awe and uncertainty.  It pained him to think that he had lost control of himself so terribly, that he could have hurt any one of them.  "I'm…I'm sorry."

The quiet was broken by the sound of a slow, steady clapping, and Ky glanced up in surprise to see Johnny offering them applause.  He strode over to Testament to return his weapon to him, which vanished once in its master's grasp.  Johnny, meanwhile, extended his hand to Ky.  "You fight like a juggernaut, that's for sure," he said with a laugh.  "There's no way I could keep up with that.  Damn fine show."

Ky blinked at him, and without really thinking he offered his hand.  Johnny pumped it heartily; his response spurred on the other children, and they sighed with relief and offered their impressed cheers.  None of them, however, ventured any closer.  "I'm sorry," Ky told the pirate quietly, so that only he could hear.  "I shouldn't have gotten carried away."

"It's all right," Johnny assured.  "I'm getting used to it."  He patted Ky's shoulder with a laugh and turned away, calling to the kids.  "C'mon whelps—let's go see if lunch is up."

Distracted by the idea of food the group began to wander back up toward the House, chattering excitedly among themselves over the battles that had taken place.  Ky stayed back, trying not to notice the curious stares thrown in his direction—least of all Testament's, whatever look the Gear may have been giving him.  When it seemed liked the children had gotten far enough away, he sighed wearily.  "I'm sorry, Testament.  It seems you were wrong about me."  He turned his gaze toward the sea, as if it might calm him.  "I'm not as noble and forgiving as you would think me."

Testament stepped closer, and when Ky was finally able to bring himself to look at him, he found Thunderseal being returned to him.  "Are you all right?" the Gear asked evenly.

Ky dropped his eyes as he accepted his sword.  "I don't know," he murmured, gulping.  "It's too much.  Everything that's happened…."  He ran his hand back anxiously through his hair.  "I don't know how to deal with all of it.  Especially not him."

Testament's hand came down on his shoulder, squeezing gently.  Ky had been fearful that he might have lost Testament's favor with his outburst, and was so grateful for that sign of support that he couldn't help but lean into the firm hand.  "Let's go in," Testament suggested.  "We can take our lunch outside—just talk for a while.  If you want."

Ky smiled ruefully.  How strange it still seemed, to have someone as close as this, offering comfort.  "Thank you."  He touched the hand on his shoulder, and as if having sensed his intentions Testament twisted his wrist, allowing their fingers to curl briefly around each other's.

"It's strange," Ky said with a quiet chuckle.  "We've just been…taking care of each other, back and forth, since you found me that night."

Testament's own smile was just as faint, but just as sincere as they started back up toward the House.  "Is that so bad?"

"No.  No, it's not…."

*****

As Testament had suggested, the pair of them only stopped inside briefly to hide Thunderseal away and get their lunch—soup and sandwiches—before heading outside once more.  They didn't speak at first; Ky kept his head down to avoid the gazes from the children, and Testament, for now, was content to allow him that space.  Even as they ate they were quiet, and finished quickly; neither of them had appetites.

But during that short break Testament never stopped watching the man at his side.  His brain was dancing back and forth, trying to make sense of everything, to puzzle out what Ky might have been thinking and, more than that, to find a way to help him.  Ky had cared for him the night before with his sympathy, and he had no idea how to go about doing the same.  He didn't really remember what the man had done, had said, to calm and reassure him.

But there had been that night on _Mayship_'s wing; something had changed even then, as he remembered Ky waking afterwards to fix him with kind eyes.  He had only listened that night, and spoken truthfully.  Perhaps…that would be enough now, though he was amazed to think that compassion could be so simple.

"Ky."  Testament reached out, closing his hand lightly over Ky's wrist.

Ky sighed, giving in more easily than he had expected to that gentle prodding.  "That damn Sol again," he murmured.  "I told you…he has a strange effect on me.  Every time."

Testament nodded vaguely, and thought it best to perhaps explain the rest of what he knew.  "I did meet Sol before I was a Gear—over fifty years ago, during the war.  It was only briefly, as far as I remember, and we've met a few times since then."  He lowered his eyes.  "It wasn't until after I was a Gear that I recognized him for what he was."

Ky stared intensely down at his own hands, perched on the table in front of his half eaten lunch.  "I really do hate him," he said dully.  "He really was everything I hated about the war.  His apathy, his recklessness and destructiveness—it was all those things that brought our world to ruin.  He was even…everything I hated in myself.  As the war dragged on more of us were being pulled into his thoughtless style of fighting, his cynical outlook on our mission.  Even me.  And…I hated that, watching myself fall, like him, into that kind of rampant, bloody battle.  Into his…insensitivity for the defenseless innocents.

"But even so, I did look up to him once," he confessed, very quietly.  "I was just as drawn by his confidence and…freedom…as all the others.  To think now that he was a Gear, that he might have been looking down at us the entire time, toying with us, even…."  His fingers curled into fists, though by now he was so weary from contemplation that the gesture was only half-hearted.  "What did he do all that time, when he could have challenged Justice with that strength of his?  Was he waiting for us—us humans—to take care of it?  For me?  Or…did he not care at all about us, leaving that monster alive until he got bored of watching us suffer…."

"I don't know," Testament said quietly, his grip tightening carefully around Ky's wrist.  "I really don't know."

"Damn him."  Finally a look of pain broke Ky's features as his shoulders tensed.  "Damn him, for all of it."

Testament shifted his hand, brushing his fingertips lightly over the backs of Ky's palm until his hand relaxed.  He slipped his fingers between Ky's and curled them.  "There's something else that's bothering you."  Something more personal, internal.  Testament recognized the brief flickerings of shame that passed between Ky's tense eyebrows.

"He…."  Ky paused to take a breath, wetting his lips.  "It's just hard for me to accept," he murmured, shivering.  And suddenly his unbound hand fisted and pounded against the table, rattling their dishes.  "Why?  What good is the Holy Order—what good is justice—if our fate was controlled by Gears all along?  We struggled under Gears for over a hundred years only to have one of them save us on a whim.  What good was any of it?"

Ky turned his blue eyes, wild and pained, on Testament.  "What good am I, if all I could do was bide time for when a Gear—a _goddamned Gear_—could come and save us?  Even now…I'm helpless.  Our peace is crumbling around us, and still Sol tells me that he'll take care of it alone, as always.  That I need do nothing!  What good are police and soldiers and faith if in the end the only thing that's ever mattered is one lawless Gear acting outside of morality and order?  One…selfish, arrogant Gear…"

Ky sagged, his chin falling forward onto his chest in defeat, his shoulders hunched and trembling.  "Damn him…I _hate_ him.  I hate him!"  A thick, dry sob crumbled from his lips.  "I hate him…."

Testament's eyes thinned, his hand still caught against Ky's as the man drooped and quivered.  He didn't know what to say.  Even if Ky's words to him before had been so simple, so easy, he could think of nothing now to console Ky's anger and grief.  He wasn't even sure such things existed.  But it pained him to see this man who had accepted him suffer; and suddenly he was pushing to his feet, dragging Ky with him.

"Let's go," he said quietly, but with urgency.  He took Ky by the shoulders and forced him to stand.  "Let's get out of here—let's go to the town.  Anything."

"Testament…?"  Ky stared up at him, bewildered.  "What…?"

"Please."  Testament touched Ky's face briefly, swiping his thumb along his brow as if he could ease the knots of pain there.  "Come with me, Ky.  We don't have to worry about all that now.  Let's just go somewhere.  This place…is skinning us raw."

Ky took in a quiet breath, and though he was still confused he nodded, gulping back thick emotion.  "All right," he whispered.  "Let's go."

Testament took his hand, and together they started away from the House, leaving even their lunch dishes behind.

*****

Bridget thoroughly enjoyed his ride through the city.  He couldn't help but gawk at everything he saw; small motorcarts milled about everywhere bearing people with their groceries, store windows displayed all manner of bizarre metallic devices, and everywhere he looked he could spot some kind of construction taking place.  He felt as if the entire city were building itself around them, expanding and alive despite the odor of oil and smoke.  More than that, he couldn't have asked for a better chariot.  Sol was an impressive figure as he lumbered down the street on long strides, and with his thick musculature and wild hair it was almost like he was riding a horse.  Sol did not find the comparison as amusing as he did.

When they reached Zepp's central compound Bridget finally realized why he hadn't been able to find the building by himself; the compound, though stretching across a wide area at the city center, was only four or five stories tall, and looked like an old warehouse.  Despite its simple appearance it was somehow impressive, with its bold, angular lines and high fences.  Guards patrolled about everywhere bearing what must have been bullet-shooting firearms—Bridget had never seen a real one before.

"Wow…it's awesome!"  Bridget hopped lightly off Sol's back and trotted up to the main gate, uncaring that the guard there promptly set a warning hand on his shoulder.  He stood up on his toes as he tried to get a better glimpse of the compound interior.  "I didn't think it would look like this.  I saw the capital in London once, but it wasn't anything like this!"

"Hey," Sol grunted as he came up behind him.  "Your leg's fine, you little shit."

Bridget stuck his tongue out at him and turned back towards the guard.  "I'm here to see Potemkin," he explained, displaying his badge.  "I'm a friend of his."

The guard checked his pass critically and, deciding that it was legitimate, nodded to one of his companions in a nearby booth.  With a metallic squeal the chained gate began to swing open.  "Thanks, Mister!" Bridget chirped, and he started happily inside.

Sol followed, rolling his eyes, but as soon as he reached the guard he was stopped by the barrel of a gun digging into his chest.  "I'm with him," he grunted, jerking his thumb at the skipping Bridget, but the guard didn't budge.

"I can't let you in without a pass, Sir," the man informed him steely.

"But I'm with him," Sol insisted.  "Shit—Bridget, we had a deal!"

Bridget smirked to himself—it wasn't often one got to tease the most powerful bounty hunter in the world.  When he turned about he was smiling innocently.  "Did we?"

Sol fixed him with a fierce gaze, and he couldn't help but laugh. "It's okay," he assured the soldiers.   "He's with me—Potemkin's expecting us.  Sol, Show them your vi—"

"Here's my ID," Sol interrupted, flashing the guard his identification.  "And I'm with him.  So if you want to stop me from going in, shoot me."  Shoving his wallet back into his pocket he stomped after Bridget with a twisted frown.

"Sorry, big guy," Bridget chirped, giving his shoulder a pat as he fell into step next to him.  "But we're in, right?"  He skipped ahead.  "So let's go find Potemkin."

They went through several more guards, giving Bridget more chances to proudly display his badge, until they were at last guided to an elevator taking them to the fifth floor of the building.  A short, guarded hall led them to a closed office door, and a young man with clipped hair and a trim uniform.  "I'm sorry, you can't see Potemkin now," he reported shortly.

Bridget all but pounced on the desk with his badge, but the official was ahead of him.  "He has a visitor," he explained.  "No one is to interrupt them."

"Can you please just let him know we're here?" Bridget asked hopefully.  "It's really important, and I'm in a hurry."

"You're going to have to wait," the man replied stiffly.  "Please take a seat."

Bridget was about to protest further, but just then the door behind them clicked open.  He whirled, and was relieved to see Potemkin himself stepping out of the wide exit.  He was as impressive as always, with his broad shoulders and thick limbs, but when his gaze fell on Bridget his expression softened gladly.  "Ah, Bridget," he greeted.  "It's good to see you again."

"Potemkin!"  Bridget offered his hand for a formal greeting—his entire arm seemed to disappear in the man's wide palm.  "Your secretary's mean.  He wasn't going to let use see you."

Potemkin smiled, though it faltered somewhat when he noticed Sol behind the younger boy.  "Well," he replied diplomatically, "I already have company.  I'll introduce you."

Potemkin stepped aside to make way for his guest.  The man was, naturally, dwarfed by his host, but he was still somewhat short; he had a round face creased with a few lines brought by age, his hair frosty from the same cause.  The only outward indication of who he might be was the addition of a white band around his arm—the mark of a scientist.

Bridget, however, fell back at the first sight of him, bumping into Sol.  He had never met this man before, but there was no mistaking the deep-set, dark eyes swiveling to meet him.  Even his manner, so strict and still, was an eerie reminder to the man he had followed through the streets of Rome.  He gulped.

"This is Bridget and Sol Badguy, acquaintances of mine," Potemkin introduced to his guest.  "Gentlemen, this is Dr. Arthur Galleon."


	18. Chapter 17

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

****

****

**Culmination**

Chapter 17

Bridget gulped.  It wasn't often that something managed to throw him, as he'd always prided himself on being quick in wit and on his feet, but he hadn't been prepared to find himself face to face with Arthur Galleon.  He looked harmless, and neither Potemkin or Sol seemed at all disturbed with his presence, but those eyes…Bridget would never mistake eyes like that, nor the calm, scrutinizing stare the man was fixing him with.

But Bridget was nothing if not resourceful, and his lapse was only momentary—before anyone could notice his discomfort he stepped forward, offering his hand to the man with a bright grin.  "It's good to meet you Dr. Galleon.  I don't really know what you do, but I think I've heard your name in the news before."

Dr. Galleon smiled warmly and shook his hand.  "A pleasure to meet you, Bridget."

"Bridget here is a bounty hunter," Potemkin explained, seemingly pleased that the pair was getting along.  "Are you here on business, Bridget?"

"Actually, yeah."  Bridget straightened.  Though it was probably dangerous to speak his intentions in front or Dr. Galleon, he was curious to see the man's reaction.  "I'm trying to get some information for a few friends of mine—about the killer robots that have been running around."

The three men present each straightened, surprised by Bridget's straightforward and ambitious response.  Dr. Galleon didn't react as greatly as Bridget had suspected, but his eyes widened faintly, his chin tilting up.  It was recognition if nothing else, and it made Bridget's heart skip a little.  Dr. Galleon didn't know he was on to him, and that meant he might be able to get some information out of him.

"That's some coincidence," Potemkin was saying, bringing Bridget's attention back.  "Dr. Galleon and I were just talking about that."  He nodded politely to his guest.  "If you don't mind staying a bit longer, Arthur, would you like to share with him what we've found out?"

Dr. Galleon nodded, somewhat distractedly.  "Of course.  This is a matter of great importance to us all."  He took a step back into the office.  "If the two of you have any information you can share with us, it will be a great help."

Bridget wanted to reply that he was sure it would be, but he clamped his jaw shut.  With a bright smile he strode importantly into the office, Sol following with a shake of his head.

*****

Ky and Testament managed to catch a few stares as they wandered together into the town, though thankfully most were discreet; the officer wasn't up to fending off their curiosity or their questions, if they had indeed figured out who he was.  Most likely in a place this small everyone had long since heard of his arrival, and though he took Youn's earlier warnings to heart, it didn't seem as if they would have a problem.  Or perhaps the people simply knew better than to test the generosity of the Global Police.

It was a small town, simple but clean with thin buildings and quaint shops.  The people milled about with carts of goods and groceries as if having no other care—so unlike the bustle of Paris, or the sinister labyrinth of Rome.  With the air of the sea still fresh Ky found that the atmosphere was greatly calming, to his immense relief.  Though nothing seemed to help him steady his steps more effectively than the presence at his side.

Ky could tell that Testament was doing his best; he didn't speak, even if he looked as if he were working up to it, but his manner was reassuring and his posture straight.  His strides were the smooth, unbroken gait of an animal, his eyes gleaming but not sharp.  His hand was undemanding around Ky's.  As they walked Ky could sometimes feel the muscles of his arm tense, readying to offer something—a word of comfort, perhaps, which never came, and still Ky was satisfied.  He knew Testament had no answers for him, but the intentions of sympathy hidden in his half-formed gestures were enough consolation for now.

"There aren't many cities like this in Italy anymore," Ky said suddenly, his voice quietly thoughtful as he scanned the peaceful streets.  "Do you think Rome looked like this, before it fell…?"

"I wouldn't know," Testament confessed, though he seemed pleased that the silence had been at last broken.  "But I imagine it was…a bit larger."

Ky smiled.  "Yes, I suppose it would have been."

They walked a bit further, taking in the sights and people, until Ky spotted a shop of particular interest across the street: a tiny antique shop with all manner of charming vases, plates, and assorted cups in the window.  With a quiet intake of breath he gave Testament's hand a tug to guide him toward it, and though he was puzzled, the Gear followed without protest.

A faint bell above the door signaled their entrance into the small shop, and Ky had to smile; he had been to many places just like this, and stepping into the comfortable surroundings almost felt like going home.  He at last released Testament's hand as he moved to the glass cabinets displaying several shelves of delicate, hand-painted tea cups.

"Aren't they wonderful?" Ky said, mostly to himself, as he moved along, studying each intricate design.  "Especially this pale green one—is that a flower of this island, do you think?  I don't think I've ever seen a flower that color."

Frowning, Testament came up beside him to see for himself.  "They're tea cups," he reported, puzzled.

Ky smiled.  "Yes, they are."  He continued down the case, marveling at the craftsmanship.  "I collect them."

"Collect tea cups?" Testament echoed, sounding no more enlightened.

"_Sa'lude?" came a call from behind them, and Ky turned to see an old woman in a simple dress appear out of a room at the back of the store.  She blinked at them in surprise—doubtlessly recognizing who they must have been—and straightened, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of her attire.  "Welcome, sirs," she greeted with a heavy accent._

"Good afternoon," Ky returned politely, hoping to win her over with sheer sincerity.  "We were just having a look around, if that's all right."

"Oh, of course," the woman quickly assured.  She paused.  "If it's sir Patriorte's work you're interested in, we have another set here behind the counter," she offered.

"Sir Patriorte," Ky repeated thoughtfully.   He had never heard of the name, and that alone was enough to collect his full attention.  "Yes, I'd like to see it."  He approached, his companion a few steps behind.

The old woman—the shop's keeper, as it seemed—lifted a box out from under the counter, revealing a set of finely crafted tea cups, saucers, and a sugar cup, each bearing the same pale green flowers Ky had noticed earlier.  "They're Corsican Roses," she explained, noting Ky's interest.  "Native to our island—if you're with us come spring, you'll see them about."

"I'm afraid I won't be," Ky replied.  "Perhaps…I'll have to take some with me."  He turned to Testament.  "Will you come back to the ship with me?  I don't have any money with me at the moment."

"If…you want," Testament replied, and after Ky had assured the woman of his return they headed outside once more.  The Gear's lips were thoughtfully pursed.  "You collect tea cups," he repeated, as if the words would make more sense if he heard them again.

Ky smiled warmly at his baffled expression.  "Yes, I do.  I have dozens of them at my home in Paris, from all over the world."

"And…do you use them all?"

"Oh, no—there's too many for that.  Only a few."

Testament's brow furrowed in deeper concentration.  "Then why collect them?" he asked.

"Because that's…what I do," Ky explained as best he could.  "Whether you use them is not the point—I'm just a collector."

"But…."  He was still having little luck comprehending.  "Why collect something you don't use?"

"Because…."  Ky was going to give a thoughtful answer until he caught a glimpse of Testament's face—so childishly intent that he had to laugh, openly and sincerely.  "Because I like them," he said, giving arm a tap.  "And that's good enough."

Testament sighed quietly, though he was also smiling.  "All right.  I can understand that, at least."  

He slipped his hand back into Ky's, and the officer blushed despite himself.  He was still so unused to this kind of intimate treatment, and it made something warm swell behind his ribs.  But because there were still people on the street paying attention to them he couldn't do anything more than lean subtly into Testament's shoulder, turning his head to catch the scent of his hair.  "Thank you," he whispered.

Testament glanced at him curiously.  "What for?"

"Too many things."

*****

With the four men seated, Potemkin took it upon himself to begin the exchange.  "It looks like we're all here for the same reason," he said evenly, "so I might as well say it plainly; we're all trying to find the origin of these robots that have been impersonating Sir Kiske.  So far we don't have many leads."

Bridget's lip twitched, though he dared not show his triumphant expression to Dr. Galleon.  "Have you been able to find anything?" he asked anxiously.  "Some…friends of mine are on their hit list."

"'Hit list'," Sol all but grunted.  "And how do you know that?"

"Because I asked one," Bridget shot back knowingly.

Potemkin frowned at him. "Asked one?"

"Well…."  Though Bridget was aware that if he were identified as a pirate accomplice he could probably be arrested…he trusted Potemkin.  Besides, it wasn't as if they'd done any pillaging since he joined the crew, so he hadn't broken any laws yet.  "Actually, I've been helping out the Jellyfish," he admitted.  "The robots are after Johnny and May."

Potemkin didn't look at all cross, so he took that as a good sign.  "I see.  We've been able to identify several of the people the robots are after, though finding them is a different problem."

"Anji and Baiken are in Rome," Sol contributed.  "If you're worried about them you can pick them up, but I don't think those robots will give them too much trouble."

Dr. Galleon folded his hands in his lap.  "You shouldn't underestimate them.  We've already confirmed that Chipp Zanuff went missing some time ago, further north.  And, of course, Sir Kiske."

Sol's eyes narrowed on the man, and Bridget fidgeted—even if the glare wasn't directed at him it was intimidating.  "What about Kiske?"

"Oh…that's right.  You wouldn't know."

Before Sol could demand an explanation Potemkin spoke up.  "Ky Kiske's airship was found in Genoa," he related gravely.  "At least, what was left of it, along with dozens of destroyed robots.  There were also reports of human blood, but…no body."  His head lowered slightly.  "There was no other sign of what might have happened to him.  So far the government has been able to keep that information from the press."

Bridget bit at the inside of his lip, glancing about at their serious faces.  He would have liked to assure them that Ky was fine, but…there was no telling if Ky would have wanted him to.  For now, all he had to worry about was finding out where the robots were.  "So you didn't find anything?" he pressed on.  "If Ky was kidnapped they would have had to take him somewhere."

"No, we didn't find anything," Potemkin reluctantly confessed.  "No tracks from a vehicle, no airships in the area other than...maybe the Jellyfish Pirates."

Three pairs of eyes fell on Bridget, and he straightened.  "We did go by there," he said quickly.  He did, after all, pride himself on being a skilled actor.  "We even picked up a few of the robots and…."

He trailed off when he noticed Dr. Galleon watching him more intensely than a moment ago.  He licked his lips.  "…We didn't get anything out of them," he finished.  "One that was still working tried to attack Johnny and May—that's how we knew they were wanted."

Potemkin nodded thoughtfully.  "Most of them were too badly damaged, but we did pick up a few ourselves.  Dr. Galleon here has been heading the investigation as to their creator."

"Their security is quite advanced," the doctor himself took over.  "So far I haven't been able to access much of its memory, so there isn't any way of knowing where they came from."

Again Bridget was forced to keep his protests carefully hidden.  The man was a liar—Noverre and Octy hadn't had any trouble at all hot-wiring the Robo Ky they'd found, and it had easily given up Dr. Galleon's name.  If only there was a way to warn Potemkin!

"We've been trying to trace their line of materials," Potemkin continued, "but that's been a dead end as well.  There are just too many different smuggling rings active in Italy, especially through Rome.  And most of the countryside was never developed after the war; if they're being made somewhere near here, they'll be difficult to find."

"There should still be a trail," Sol reasoned.  "Those kinds of materials are going to have to be transported by airship, and there are only so many places a large ship can land near here.  If there is a factory in Italy it'd have to be near one of the settlements."

Potemkin nodded.  "We've thought of that, too.  But that means searching each of them with no leads, and there's still no definite proof that they're even in Italy."

Bridget pursed his lips in deep thought.  Though he had studied a bit about Italy in preparing to be a bounty hunter, he didn't know enough about the different settlements to suggest any of them for search.  It was time to take a risk.  "Dr. Galleon?" he asked innocently enough.  "These robots are pretty advanced, aren't they?  There shouldn't be a whole lot of people who are able to make something like them."

Dr. Galleon frowned at him, and the boy did his best not to fidget.  "That's true," he conceded carefully.  "In fact, my research team investigated such a design during the war, while I was working in Zepp—as a means of countering Gears.  But the war ended long before we could perfect any of our work."

"These things aren't working for Zepp," Sol grunted.  "I don't think anyone from here could be behind it, even if they are the biggest suspects."  His gaze flickered briefly to Potemkin, who nodded, as if accepting an apology for his remark.  "Which means there are only so many people with the resources and know-how who could head a project like this."  He fixed an eye on Dr. Galleon.  "Is there anyone in your research team now who could be leaking information to someone?"

Dr. Galleon straightened crossly.  "Leaking?  That's absurd.  My colleagues would never."

Sol shrugged, though he didn't look at all convinced.  "Then unless anyone else here has any ideas, we're fresh out of luck."

Potemkin sighed heavily.  "Yes, it seems that way.  But President Gabriel has decided to keep Zepp here for longer than usual, to help the investigation."

"I'm sure."  Sol pushed heavily to his feet.  "Well, that was unhelpful.  Unless you have anything else, I'll be going."

Bridget caught one of Sol's thigh straps, keeping him from getting away just yet.  "Potemkin," he said brightly, "you mentioned before that you have some sort of reference room, right?  You said I'd be able to look things up that would help me with my bounties."

"Yes, that's right.  The Records Room is on the third floor—if you plug your badge into one of the terminals, it should let you access whatever information you might need."

Bridget nodded, letting Sol go as he hopped to his feet.  "In that case, I think I'll go take a look.  There are some other things I want to look up—about a few smaller bounties I'm interested in."  He bowed his head politely to the pair.  "Thanks for your help!  I hope you have good lucking finding the robots."

Potemkin nodded, Dr. Galleon glancing discreetly away.  "Good luck to you as well, Bridget," the former offered.  "Come back if you ever need anything."

"Thanks!"

Bridget took Sol by the hand and led the way outside, though it wasn't until they were safe partway down the hall that he spoke.  "I do have a lead," he confessed.  "But I couldn't say it in there."

Sol scoffed, rolling his eyes.  "Sure you do, kid."

"No, really!"  Bridget tried to tug him into the elevator, but Sol resisted, just so the boy would realize how ineffective his strength was.  After a glare from Bridget, though, they were both inside and going down to the third floor.  "Didn't you think Dr. Galleon was acting strange?" Bridget persisted.  "He was nervous."

"Scientists are always nervous," Sol retorted.  "Potemkin trusts him."

"Potemkin's wrong."  The elevator chimed as they reached their floor, and again Bridget took to the lead as they followed the signs leading toward the Records Room.  "And Dr. Galleon was wrong about the robots—they're not that hard to get into.  We pirates were able to get into it.  And do you know what it told us?"  He glanced up at Sol's face seriously.  "It said Dr. Galleon designed them."

Sol frowned, as if finally beginning to take Bridget more seriously.  "And you believe that?"

"Robots don't lie, do they?  Besides, you said yourself not many people should be able to make a robot like that."

They entered the Records Room, requiring Bridget to show his badge once again before the technician indicated a computer they could use.  Bridget hopped over to it and took a seat.  "So what we really have to do," he continued, popping his badge into a nearby slot, just as Potemkin had instructed, "is find out who works with Dr. Galleon.  Potemkin's probably not investigating them because he trusts that weasel, so it's up to us."

Sol set a heavy hand on the back of Bridget's chair, watching as he typed in his name to log into the system.  "You really know what you're doing?"

"My dad back home has a computer to help with his money," Bridget explained.  "It runs on magic, of course, but it's not too different from this.  I think."  He started to search for files on Dr. Galleon, which turned up old news records on his accomplishments and discoveries, his contributions toward the war effort.

Sol was quiet for a moment, just watching as Bridget scrolled through the different information.  "Are you really working with the Jellyfish?" he asked, almost sounding curious.  "I heard about what happened in Rome.  Someone mentioned Johnny had a blond kid with him."  He cocked his head to the side.  "That you?"

"Yup."

Another silent moment passed.  "And you said you were with them in Genoa," he said abruptly.

Bridget straightened a little in his chair, but he didn't glance back and didn't falter in his search.  "Yeah…."

"What was it like?"

"It…."  Bridget licked his lips.  He knew if he said too much he'd give away that Ky was alive and all right—and judging by Ky's reaction to hearing about Sol being anywhere nearby, he didn't want to say too much.  If Sol went charging off to Sardinia after him there could be trouble.  "It was kind of scary," he said truthfully.  "There were robot parts everywhere—if Ky was there, he took out more than his share of them, at least.  We didn't find any that weren't trashed."

Sol shifted behind him.  "Then you think he was taken by them."

"I wouldn't know."

"Hmph."

Bridget licked his lips, hoping he wasn't taking too much a chance in asking, but he was curious.  "Are you worried about him?"

"Why would I be?"

"Well, you're asking…."

Sol grunted as he pushed away, flopping heavily into a chair at Bridget's side.  "Wherever Ky is, the robots are, too," he replied gruffly.  "I'm just trying to get two things done at once."  His gaze flickered away.  "Besides, he's driving Europe crazy with this little disappearing act of his.  The entire continent's about to shit its pants."

Bridget made a face at his metaphor.  "He could be dead by now, you know."

Sol didn't reply, but a moment later Bridget could feel an icy glare digging into him.  He tried not to look, but he couldn't help it—nor could he help gulping at the lethal expression Sol was giving him.  "I'm just saying," he said quickly.  "I mean, if I was an insane robot and knew Ky could take out fifty of my cousins at a time, I wouldn't keep him around for too long, you know?"

"Do you know something?"

Bridget gulped again.  "Of course not."

A thick hand snatched his wrist, and Bridget gasped quietly as he was jerked about in his chair to face the man.  Sol's eyes, though dull in color, seemed to gleam sharply on him.  "Do you know something?" he demanded.

"…No.   No, I don't know anything," Bridget insisted, and when he gave his hand a tug Sol released him.  Relieved, he turned his attention back to the computer.  "But," he offered, "if they did take Ky, it'd have to be for some reason, right?  So they might just be keeping him around."

Sol leaned back in his chair, arms folding as if suddenly indifferent.  "He's been gone for a while now," he muttered.  "If they have plans for him, chances are they've already done it."

"Then we'll just have to hurry, right?"

Sol glared at him again, and for another few long moments the room was silent except for Bridget's fingertips on the keys.  But soon enough Sol leaning forward in resignation to see the computer screen.  "Try clicking on that one."

Bridget nodded, delving deeper into Zepp's database.

[*_Sa'lude_ means "hello" in Sardinian, which is still spoken in Sardinia today.  Or at least, that's what Google tells me.  *loves the internet*    Patriorte, however, I made up ^^]


	19. Chapter 18

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated…err…

WARNING!  This chapter contains graphic yaoi content.  In fact…considering ff.net's policies, it shouldn't even be here ^^;;.  It's pretty tame as far as yaoi lemons go, but all things considered it's probably still a mild NC-17.  I tried to tone it down for its debut here, but…I figured anyone who's sat through 17 chapters of my long-winded GG yaoi fic have been waiting for this, anyway. *teehee*

And so, if you are under the age of 17, you shouldn't be here.  Or just don't tell anyway.

If anyone is offended by the content here, I apologize.  But please don't report me!  Let me know, and I'll gladly replace the chapter with a tamer version.  I just don't want to get this story pulled. ^^;;

Also, this morning I realized that I was working on the final chapter of this fic (still a ways away from here).  Which means that since there's no reason left for me to be way ahead of what I'm posting, I'm going to start updating more regularly.  From now on until the end, barring natural disaster or surprise thesis paper, I should have a new chapter up every Sunday and Wednesday night.  Might bring down the suspense a bit, but I'm itching to get this big baby of mine out there ^_~.

Thanks again for all your wonderful and encouraging reviews!  It's great to see so many fans of my favorite Guilty Gear pairing.

I hope you like it ^o^

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**Culmination**

Chapter 18

It was getting late, but Bridget hadn't tired yet.  He hadn't moved from his chair in the Records Room for what felt like hours; some time ago Sol had wandered off, returning with some snacks from the cafeteria for them both.  Since then Sol had fallen asleep in his chair, and as he looked like he needed it, Bridget left him alone.

"It has to be in here somewhere," Bridget muttered to himself, crossing off another name on the list he'd been making on a scrap of paper.  He was running out of doctors and scientists to investigate with still very little luck.  He kicked his feet in frustration, and with a huge bite of his apple went back to searching.

*****

Ky and Testament walked back toward the House along the shoreline just as the sun was beginning to set.  It was a beautiful evening, with vibrant orange painting a distant, calm horizon.  Ky was beginning to feel peaceful again, with a soft breeze against his face, the slight weight of a paper bag in his left hand.  In the end, Testament had bought the tea cups for him—most of his own money had been damaged too badly during his fight in Genoa to be useful, and that which had survived he'd used to buy their lunch in Rome those days ago.  But Testament's offer was a welcomed one, even if the Gear still didn't quite understand the significance behind something so simple.  It was somehow important to Ky to have them; not only a keepsake of this place to remind him of its tranquility, but contained in a form in which he'd always appreciated the artistry.

"Do you think Bridget's all right?" Ky asked as they drew to a gradual halt, turning to watch the last bit of day extinguish.  "I am still worried about him, out there by himself…."

"I'm sure he's fine," Testament assured.  "He is a bounty hunter, after all.  He's used to taking care of himself."

"Yes, you're probably right."  Ky lowered himself to the sand.  It was a welcomed relief to be able to stretch out after all the walking and training he'd done that day.  "He's a good boy, that Bridget."

Testament nodded as he seated himself on the officer's right.  "He is.  And from what I hear, he's pretty fond of you."

Ky smiled and set his shopping bag aside.  He couldn't say that he was surprised—Bridget had been taking care of him this entire time, had always been right at his side.  "And you, too.  He was worried about you last night; he stayed with us both."

"Yes; I appreciated it."  Testament slipped a hand back through his hair, letting the breeze carry it a moment.  "He is a goody boy.  Johnny's lucky to have him.  If he stays with the pirates, he'll take good care of this place."

"I hope so."

They were quiet a while, just listening to the shift of ocean, watching it crawl up mischievously toward their feet.  Feeling youthful, Ky slipped out of his sandals and stretched his feet out so that the waves just tickled his heels.  "There's something about this place," he said thoughtfully, wiggling his toes.  "Maybe it's because everything is so natural, so…clean.  It feels like it's dragging everything inside me to the surface."  

Testament watched him, waiting patiently for him to go on, as he'd been expecting this all along.  Though they'd managed to spend a peaceful afternoon together Ky's worries and concerns hadn't vanished; now, he was maybe a bit better equipped to sort through his crazed thoughts.

Ky lifted his head slightly.  "I think…I've finally come to realize what's been wrong with me all along," he began quietly, though his voice this time was without anger, bitterness, or sorrow.  "I'd recognized it before, but…at the time, I blamed it all on Sol."  His smile was slight, and grim.  "I don't trust people.  It was easy, once, to say that Sol's abandoning us made me cynical.  After the war I was always wary of sending out officers on missions without me.  Not because I thought them incompetent, but…because I felt as if I needed to take care of everything myself.  I was their leader.  I was supposed to be the strongest.  And I came to distrust the outcome of a battle I wasn't a part of."  

He sighed quietly.  "But looking back, I can see that it had nothing to do with Sol.  I've always been that way.  It's why I never trusted him enough—why I'm such an awful judge of character even now.  Like with Johnny…it's hard for me to see past what my ideals of justice would label a man.  If I'd never seen this place, I don't know if I'd ever be able to see him has anything other than a pirate."

He turned his gaze on Testament.  "And you.  If not for all this…."  He sighed, displeased with the alternative.  "We'd probably still hate each other."

He was fearful that Testament would take offense to his remark, but the Gear only nodded in understanding.  "You're right.  And I understand, because I've been the same way."

Testament shifted a little—closer, so that their shoulders brushed each other.  "I've never trusted humans, either.  I wanted to believe that it was something I couldn't help; that, as a Gear, it was my instinct.  But I realized as soon as I met Dizzy that that wasn't the case."  He met Ky's attentive gaze.  "She's also a Gear, but she has none of my…bitterness.  Everything I've felt for humans is nothing more than my own injustice for what the Bureau did to me."  He chuckled quietly.  "Which means I have no excuse for not learning to be more like her.  I should be able to move on, as she has."

"I think it's something we both have to work on," Ky encouraged, already feeling a bit reassured.  "Though…I don't even know where to start."  He sagged a little closer against Testament's shoulder, enjoying the warmth of another body.  "If all of this has shown me anything, it's that I can't trust my own judgment.  Everything I've believed in up until now, my justice, my order…none of it has helped me come any closer to the truth.  It's only kept me from trusting the people whom I need the most."

"Then maybe you should try putting your faith in something else," Testament suggested, though his tone indicated he wasn't naïve enough to think it was an easy prospect.

Ky frowned.  "What do you mean?"

"We're the same," Testament told him softly, and when he turned his head Ky could feel strands of thick black brush against his neck.  It tickled.  "And Dizzy told me once that if I was ever going to trust humans again, it would first mean coming to trust myself."

The Gear shook his head with a slight chuckle.  "I know it sounds ridiculously cliché," he confessed.  "And I didn't listen to her back then.  But I think she might have been right.  Those of us who lived through the war knew only fighting…a world like this is still strange to us."  He caught Ky's hand between them.  "Maybe you don't trust yourself in a peaceful world."

"I don't…" Ky echoed, his brow furrowing.  But Testament's words made too much sense for him to not listen, and he sighed, accepting that they might be true.  "Maybe…you're right."  He closed his eyes, trying to imagine what that would mean for him.  He had thrown himself into his work because it was the only thing he knew—striving for order in their battered world, seeking out any injustice he could cure, any criminal that needed apprehension.  He was precise and unyielding.  And…sometimes, afraid.  Frightened of the years of bloody battle staining his experience; frightened of becoming the hardened, reckless warrior that he saw in himself when he trained and fought.  He had always depended on reason and order to guide his failing judgment, but if Testament was right, that shield of morality had brought him no closer to peace than he'd ever been.  It only allowed him to believe that he was justified in his selfish, ignorant prejudices.

Ky's hand tightened around Testament's, his eyes falling to the surf at his feet.  "Dizzy's pretty smart, isn't she," he said quietly.

Testament smiled thinly.  "Yes, she is."

Ky fell silent a while, letting that wisdom sink into his mind, hoping that recognition would lead to some kind of progress.  He certainly felt as if he were ready to move on, now; he was tired of uncertainty, anxiety, and loneliness.  He…was tired of a lot of things.

Ky sighed, turning his head so it could rest on Testament's shoulder.  All those things would come in time; for now, he was grateful to have such accepting company.  As the evening dragged on he closed his eyes, listening intently to Testament's breath, feeling the gentle pulse of magic beneath his skin.  There had always been something warm and almost nostalgic about the feel of the Gear.  Curiously his flexed his fingers, his senses reaching out as if he were pulling a bit of Thunderseal's magic into shape.

Testament flinched beside him, and they were so close that Ky jumped as well.  "What was that?" Testament asked.

"I'm sorry," Ky quickly apologized, though he was smiling a bit to himself.  "I was just curious—there's so much magic in you, it reminds me of Thunderseal."

Testament considered that, his features arranging themselves into a look of thoughtful confusion.  He lifted his free hand, palm up, and Ky could feel the dull surge of energy as several lines of red seal lifted into the air like tiny sprouts.  Ky watched in fascination as the thin stalks swayed and twisted around each other.

"Like this?" Testament asked, a slight movement of his fingers shaping the magic into the form of a bird.

Ky chuckled.  "Yes, like that."  He raised his own hand, eyes narrowing in concentration.  Gradually, the bird's shape melted and distorted, until it had taken on that of one of Ky's teacups.  He grinned proudly.

Testament, meanwhile, was studying Ky's work with serious interest.  "It's not normal," he remarked, "for a human to be able to manipulate magic like that."

"I've always had something of a gift for it," Ky explained, molding the magic until it resembled a simple house.  "When I was a boy growing up, I used to steal the mag-lights from the other boys' rooms and hide them in drawers."  He chuckled fondly with the memory.  "Madam D'vere didn't take to that very well."

"I can imagine."  Testament smiled as well, allowing more of the thin red strings to flow from his fingertips, granting Ky more to work with.  "It tickles."

"What does?"  Ky lifted his hand over the top of the small house he'd created, and when he moved his palm to the side the image swayed with it.  "This?"

"Yes."  Testament pursed his lips as if embarrassed.  "I can feel it—it's a little strange."

Ky pulled his hand back, as did Testament, the magic disappearing without a sound.  "Your magic feels a little strange to me, too," the officer replied.  "It's not quite like the elemental magic I'm used to dealing with."

Testament nodded.  "It's a little different than man-made magic," he explained.  "More…like ki, in a sense. It's a kind of earth magic."

"Earth magic?" Ky echoed curiously.

"Yes.  It's not commonly used, because it existed a long time before humans discovered how to use magic for themselves.  Rael explained the principles of it to me once.  It's a natural magic that comes from the earth, the kind used by…demons.  Vampires.  The undead."  Testament shrugged slightly.  "That sort of thing."

Ky frowned; it was eerie, putting it that way.  "The undead," he repeated.  "Because you…were killed once?"

"Yes, I think so."

The kind of magic Testament was talking about…sounded suspiciously like an evil power.  But if he was right and it came from the earth, then Ky had no reason to judge him.  All their magic, in the end, came from a source no one could rightly explain.  It did, however, remind him of the night before and all that had passed.  All that had occurred afterwards….

Ky licked his lips subtly, and before he could think twice he reached up, turning Testament's head toward him so he could grant a gentle kiss to his lips.  The Gear froze, startled but accepting.  When Ky pulled back he was smiling.  "Then it's no wonder you're so powerful," he said lightly.

Testament blinked at him and, as Ky had hoped, seemed to catch on to the acceptance he'd been offering.  "Maybe not."

Testament looked about to move again, but Ky sagged back against his shoulder, turning his face toward the ocean.  "Why did you kiss me this morning?" he asked suddenly, his toes curling as a sudden, almost anxious energy spread into him.

"I don't know," Testament returned.  And in a playfulness Ky hadn't experienced in a long time the Gear turned his head, so that his lips fumbled against Ky's temple when he spoke. "Why did you kiss me just now?"

"Because…."  Ky's shoulders crept up, but he was already leaning into the soft touch.  He didn't offer anything else just yet, though, realizing with a dull blush that he was…being coy.  To think of himself that way made his heart flutter a little, as much as Testament's childish affection was already doing to him.  "I don't know.  I asked you first."

Testament chuckled, and the feel of his warm breath spilling over his ear made Ky shiver.  "I'm glad," he murmured, "that you're in a better mood."

Ky closed his eyes.  "I want this to be done with," he confessed, trying to keep his voice light.  It was difficult to maintain his melancholy with Testament's lips brushing over his ear, drifting across his cheek as if to coax him into another kiss.  He tilted his chin up, surrendering a quiet sigh.  "I want to feel like myself."

Testament paused, drawing back slightly so he could meet Ky's eyes.  There was something in the Gear's face that made Ky stop as well, and there they hesitated, both coming to realize the meaning behind those words.  When their missions were done with, everything would end.  Ky returning to himself would mean his return to the Global Police, back to duty and service.  Everything would be over, and this place no more than a charming memory tangible only in a set of delicate, hand-painted flowers.

Ky reached out; if he were to trust himself, now would be his test.  He drew Testament once more to his mouth, but firmly, parting his lips for a deeper kiss.  Testament responded eagerly in kind.  Both turned, fingers still entwined against the sand as unbound hands sought out cheeks and hair.  Ky was shivering; Testament's warm mouth drew from him a boyish excitement he hadn't felt since his youth.  This was wrong of them.  He knew that, knew even better that he would probably regret it afterwards, but at the moment nothing mattered more than the tiny sighs of pleasure passing between them.

Ky pulled abruptly away with a gasp, and before Testament could draw him back he fell, stretching out on his back on the beach.  The Gear watched him, puzzled.  "Ky?"

"How long has it been?" Ky asked abruptly, his hands resting idly against his stomach as he watched Testament's face.  "Since you…did anything like this."

Testament's eyes thinned slightly in good humor.  "A long time.  Why?"

"I was just curious."

"Why?" Testament persisted.  He turned, and Ky didn't realize he was holding his breath until Testament was leaning over him, braced on knees and elbows as he slowly lowered his weight.  "How long has it been for you?"

Ky tried not to look as flustered as he suddenly felt.  It wasn't easy—the weight and heat of Testament's body against his was quickening his heart.  "A long time," he confessed.  "It's…difficult, considering my position…."  He tilted his head back as Testament's lips brushed once more over his.  "My reputation…."

"Of course…."

Testament kissed him again, parting his lips insistently as he pressed down into him.  Ky shivered despite himself; he had never taken a lover like this, so strong and yet careful at the same time.  They were both still getting used to the feeling of another's breath and body, and it showed in their clumsy affections and appreciative sighs.  Ky twisted an arm around Testament's shoulders, thrilling at the feel of toned muscle as his other hand sank into waves of soft, ebony hair.  Everything was so contradictory—from Testament's sculpted body to smooth skin, his mouth firm but his hand tender as it slid up and down Ky's ribs.  He was beautiful, and vibrant, and solemn all at once, and Ky was aware that he was being slowly, inescapably drawn away from all reality.

Everything was building too fast.  Though it may have been longer, to Ky it seemed to take only moments for him to become dissatisfied with the remaining distance between them.  Clutching Testament more tightly against him only seemed to make it worse.  He was only barely aware that his breath was coming in long gulps of air during brief pauses of their lips, thighs tensing against Testament's thick limbs.  The Gear's name hissed through him—this was not enough.  He couldn't remember having felt this alive in ages, and his long-neglected emotions were getting the better of him.  "Testament…."

"I know," Testament whispered back, all at once pushing up onto his knees.  He drew Ky after him as he climbed to his feet.  "Come on.  Let's…let's find somewhere more private."

"Yes…."  Ky scooped his bag off the sand, glancing back up at the House as Testament started to tug them towards it.  He planted his feet, drawing him back.  "Wait.  Wait, I don't want…."  He frowned—it wasn't so late that the children would all be in bed, and he couldn't imagine how to explain himself if they went dashing through the halls as they were now, flushed and disheveled.

Testament frowned but nodded, turning about in search of something better.  After a moment his eyes widened.  "Come on."  He began to pull Ky once more, to a shaded area further down the beach that Ky had only taken notice of briefly before; a boat house of some kind, a few meters safe of the tide.

Ky frowned, not sure if he approved; it was little more than a shed, and the thought of slipping away into such a place only made all of this seem even less real.  "Are you sure?"

"It's private," Testament replied, glancing at him over his shoulder with a breathless smile.

Ky blushed despite himself, and was forced to speed up as Testament increased his pace.  It almost had the feeling of escape, rushing down the beach this way, and it kept Ky's pulse from calming as they went.  He felt almost like a boy again, slipping away despite his better judgment for something so base and yet so desperate.  Even though he still had his concerns Testament's intense eyes and parted lips were enough to fuel his excitement.

The shed turned out to be a storage hut, larger than it had appeared—it was rectangular, stretching out in front of them and piled high with rows of various beach toys, chairs, towels, and floating rafts, all in impressive disarray.  There was hardly anywhere to move, and Ky depended on his companion's superior night vision to lead them through the piles of equipment.  He couldn't help but laugh.  "There's no room for us."

"There will be," Testament assured, pausing abruptly to grab something off of a nearby shelf.  He pointed ahead of them, to where a ladder was braced against the wall; it led to an attic space, like a loft, containing yet more assorted items.  "Up there."

Ky shot him a doubtful look but he slipped away from him, reaching for the rungs of the ladder.  It would indeed be private, if not a bit cramped.  As he started up he felt rather than saw Testament follow.  A hand against his hip urged him along, sending another heated shiver through the officer and encouraging him to climb faster.

The loft area was, as it appeared, no less of a mess than below.  The roof came to a point at the center, just tall enough that Ky might be able to stand fully upright if aligned just beneath it.  Halfway up the sides, long beams protruded at a diagonal to form small triangular alcoves between themselves and the roof wall.  It seemed that because of these beams, the spaces closest to the walls had been spared of the same debris as the rest of the area; they formed an almost tunnel-like gap in the mess, just large enough for the pair.

Ky pushed a large inflatable dragon out of his way and set his teacups on it so he could back up, allowing Testament room to join him.  "There's room," he reported, licking his lips.

Testament looked for himself and, seemingly pleased, crawled back into the space with the things he'd gathered; a picnic blanket which, when folded over a few times would make for a good cushion, and several beach towels.  It wasn't much of a mattress, but it would keep them from the unyielding wood of the shed.  That finished he turned, pulling Ky up against him once more.

Ky met him easily, twisting his fingers in curtains of silky black as they shared another heated kiss.  Gradually, Testament sagged, until it was him on his back this time with Ky hovering over.  The change of position was more familiar to Ky, and it gave him greater confidence as he leaned into the Gear, straddling slender hips.

Testament murmured quiet approval; his hands slid to Ky's thighs, massaging gently in encouragement.  "Are you sure it's been a while?" he teased, shifting slightly beneath him.

Ky's pulse had sped again, his eyes wide and bright as he flexed his thighs against Testament's strong hands.  "Yes," he breathed, pressing his palms flat against Testament's chest as he sank down to his mouth.  "Too long."

Ky could feel the space heating around them; though the loft was dry, chilling in the growing night, in its confines he felt as if their breath was trapped, thrown back at them as they gasped quietly with each shift of friction between them.  Ky was having a difficult time keeping track of Testament's wandering hands.  They slid, like warm liquid, over his thighs and hips, up to his ribs, his back, and chest, as if all in one smooth motion.  Every touch was deliberate and strong, drawing thin moans from the trembling officer.  And when his cotton shirt was parted over his collar he didn't care that he hadn't noticed the buttons being undone.  He struggled quickly out of the garment, and Testament's was quick to follow.  The touch of flesh to flesh raised in him a greater sense of urgency as their lips met; he felt as if Testament's magic itself were flowing through him and heating his blood.

Testament was changing him.  It was slow at first, as they were both adjusting to the other, learning each other's flesh.  But Ky could feel it as if a wall were crumbling before his eyes—his barriers melting, allowing that deep, shameful center of his to creep to the surface.  Here, there was no one depending on him, no principles to uphold nor anyone to protect.  There was no war, no duty, no officers and no Gears.  No need to trust anything but the man at his side.

Testament's hands moved again, and this time Ky was keenly aware of their actions; he was urging Ky up long enough to undo the front of his pants.  Ky braced himself on elbows and knees, carefully watching Testament's face as he worked.  "Are…."   He gulped amidst harsh breath.  "Are you…?"

"Sure about this?" Testament filled in for him.  His crimson eyes were gleaming in the dark, their light stronger than that of the moonlight filtering in through a vent in the far wall.  "No," he confessed as he drew the waist of Ky's pants over his hips.  "Are you?"

"No."  But Ky was already reaching back to help him, casting the material aside.  They fluttered longer than they should have—probably falling to the lower level—but he didn't care.  He sat up, trying not to blush as he discarded his last bit of clothing and reached for Testament's.  "But…I want to."

Testament nodded, reaching down to finish his own undressing.  "Behind you."

Ky turned curiously, his eyes falling on the object Testament had retrieved from a shelf below: a bottle of suntan lotion.  Ky couldn't help but shiver faintly as he retrieved it, the slight weight in his palm finally coaxing him to accept that…this was real.  How they had gotten to this point he couldn't see, but Testament was watching him, his own heart was fluttering against his ribs, and he knew this was what he wanted for himself.

Taking a deep breath, he emptied some of the lotion into his palm, raising his eyes to Testament's to reassure himself as he reached forward.  But Testament stopped him, his smile thin but sincere, as he guided Ky's hands back to himself.  "Please," he murmured seriously.

Ky blinked, a little surprised after all that Testament had initiated, but he didn't question as he spread the lotion over himself.  By now he was so drawn tight and anxious that even his own touch made his eyelids flutter in excitement.  When he was finished Testament was already tugging him closer, and Ky's mouth went dry as thighs parted for him.

"Come on," Testament encouraged.  There was just as much uncertainty buried in his face as Ky was experiencing, not only for the choices they'd made but simply for the long period of time each had gone without this; but he was bending his knees all the same, rubbing his ankles against Ky's hips.  "Don't hold back."

Ky nodded breathlessly, setting a hand against Testament's hip to help guide them as he slid forward, entering his partner deftly.  He felt Testament flinch, but it was no more than that.  He remained still all the same, allowing Testament to adjust to him in a long moment of heated pleasure before pulling back with a quiet murmur.  His restraint didn't last long; the body beneath him was hot and welcoming, making his next thrust sharper than the first, drawing from them both low moans.  After that Ky wasted no time in developing a firm rhythm.

"Ky…."  Testament panted thinly, trying to urge his legs higher, to invite his companion deeper, but he was already trembling a little more every time Ky moved against him, quickening the pulse between them.  His fingers scraped against the officer's forearm; obediently Ky reached down, hooking his hand under Testament's thigh to urge it higher, nearly against his ribs.  

Ky himself was all but thoughtless to the action, but when a thick voice rose in sharp groans beneath him the last of his inhibitions were stripped away.  Gasping, he thrust harder into his lover—seeking a deeper pleasure almost desperately.  Flashing red eyes reminded him that he was free of restraint here, of anything.  And yet already that perfect bliss was slipping away from him; his stamina was already wearing.  His hand snapped out, catching one of the diagonal beams crossing over his head for greater leverage.  Somewhere below him Testament gasped at the extra force, gripping at Ky's arm to keep from being pushed across the blankets as the officer moved strongly in and against him.

Their motion was harsh, clumsy, and raw, their breath ragged in the small space.  Ky could taste sweat on his lips as he mindlessly obeyed his body's urgings.  When his climax finally swept through him it was hard and fast, choking a thick cry in his throat as his hips jerked in urgent release.  Pleasure flowed through his hips and stomach, throbbing and deep as if through his veins and unlike anything he'd felt in a long time.  Testament tightening around him in his own release only made it that much sweeter; for several long moments he could only gasp, quivering.

"Ky…."  

His breath was just beginning to calm when smooth fingertips found him, easing the tension from between his furrowed eyebrows, massaging his aching fingers until they released the unyielding wood overhead.  With a quiet murmur Ky slumped forward against a waiting body.  He was exhausted, utterly, and he twisted his arms around Testament's neck as they sank together to the towels.  As a tangle of sweat-dampened limbs they curled together to regain their breath and senses.  Testament's weak chuckle emptied against his forehead.  "Thanks…for not holding back."

Ky smiled lazily against Testament's throat.  He hadn't thought he'd had such passion left in him, and he would have said as much if not for the interruption of a quiet yawn.  "I'm tired," he murmured instead, settling himself comfortably against a wide chest.

Testament whispered something to him, stroking the line of his back, but by then Ky had slipped away from him.  He was drifting already into deep dreams.


	20. Chapter 19

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

**Culmination**

Chapter 19

When Bridget finally found what he was looking for, he almost didn't trust that he'd done it.  He was exhausted, eyes beginning to blur against the lit screen.  Some of the workers had tried to get him to leave, but his tenacity beat them out.  And Sol had slept through the entire thing, snoring quietly away like a spoiled child.

But what Bridget was looking at now would bring an end to his long night.  He'd been following his hunches all this time, and now he had the proof he needed.  The factory had been just beneath their noses all along—even now, sat easily within reach.

After some scrambling, Bridget found enough paper to write down all that he'd discovered, printing out copies of the pictures, maps, and articles that came with it.  Everything was folded neatly and tucked away in an inside pocket of his attire.  Grinning broadly—Ky would be thrilled with him—he all but jumped from his chair and started for the door.  He'd made it halfway there when he remembered his slumbering company.

Bridget paused, regarding Sol for a long time with a thoughtful frown.  He…had been something of a help, after all, so it only seemed appropriate to leave him something.  He skipped back to the workstation, scribbling out a note that he taped to Sol's headband, so that he'd be sure to see it.  The man slept on.  Whatever he'd been doing up until now, he certainly must have not gotten much rest for him to be so oblivious.

Feeling quite proud of himself, Bridget scampered back to the elevator.

*****

Testament decided that, ridiculous as it may have seemed, at the moment he was awed by nothing greater than the smooth line which formed the back of Ky's neck.  As far as he was concerned it was perfect.  Ky's neck was graceful and long, melting perfectly into the curve of his spine, the hollow between his shoulder blades.  The Gear had spent some time now just running his fingertips over the subtle shapes of flesh, tracing Ky's hairline from ear to ear, down the side of his throat to his collar and back again.  They were small, intimate gestures, the kind he might have shared with a lover back when he was still human.  Such memories were all but lost to him now, but here, with another body's warmth shifting against him, he had the feeling that he had missed this all along and never known it.

Ky had certainly surprised him.  Though he had always known the officer to be unyielding, he hadn't expected to find in him such raw abandon.  By now the soreness had long since faded thanks to his magic; he almost regretted it.  Though it had hurt there was something about that pain which fought to change him, and he would have liked the reminder to remain—that it truly had been Ky inside him, taking him so fully and sincerely.  It had been fierce and desperate, hot and vulgar and clumsy, and so real.  At least if he were sore from the experience it would keep him from being completely overwhelmed by the drifting euphoria he felt now.

Ky shifted slightly in his sleep, his breath falling gently against the Gear's collarbone.  He was curled at Testament's side with head and hand rested upon his chest, seemingly peaceful.  It was hard to imagine, with him so still and silent, that not even an hour ago he had been so intense.  Testament shivered faintly with the memory of that strength moving against him.  If Ky was so passionate in all he did, then perhaps he was right to restrain himself from time to time.

Testament was finally beginning to fall asleep himself when a voice rose from somewhere nearby—someone was calling his name.  Satiated and weary, it took him a while to realize it was Johnny calling for him.  With a heavy sigh he slipped out from beneath his slumbering companion, and there paused a moment, his breath stilling as Ky reached unconsciously after him.  "I'll be right back," he murmured against the man's temple, and Ky fell still once more.  Smiling faintly, Testament tugged his pants on and ventured down the ladder.

His hearing had been true; as soon as Testament left the shed he caught sight of Johnny making his way down the beach.  Upon seeing him the pirate trotted over, and Testament moved to meet him.

"There you are," Johnny muttered, rolling his eyes as he halted.  "I've been looking all over for you—do you know where Ky is?"

"Asleep," Testament replied before realizing what his answer might give away.  "In the shed."

Johnny straightened, sending the Gear a baffled look.  He looked to Testament, to the shed, and back again, and there his eyes widened.  "Oh.  Um…I see."

Testament swallowed back a quiet sigh; his words, coupled with his disheveled appearance and lack of dress, had probably spilled all.  "What is it?" he tried to spur the other on.

Johnny scratched the back of his neck.  "Oh yeah, right.  We just got a call from Bridget," he reported, struggling to become serious.  "He says he's found something, and that you should come meet him.  Sounds like he knows where the factory is."

"Really?"  Despite all his assurances, Testament hadn't expected Bridget to uncover the whereabouts so quickly.  But he nodded, understanding.  "All right.  I'll wake Ky—how soon can we leave?"

"Half an hour.  I've already sent May up to get the ship ready.  We can drop you off, at least."  His voice lowered grimly.  "We heard from Baiken not long ago, too," he continued.  "She and Anji were attacked by the Ninth and his robots."

A chill ran the length of Testament's spine.  "Are they all right?"

"No."  Johnny sighed.  "They took Anji.  And probably Chipp Zanuff, too.  But Baiken's safe—she managed to catch a ride to Benevento, and is waiting there."

"I see."  Testament lowered his head, thinking over the news.  "All right.  I'll get Ky, and we'll meet you up at the ship."

"All right."  Johnny turned to leave, and paused, glancing between the Gear and the shed one last time.  With a shake of his head he started up the beach.

Testament finally released a quiet sigh as he turned back inside.  Though he was relieved to hear they may have found the location of their enemy, it was…sobering, also, to imagine what they would face ahead.  The Ninth and his servants had managed to take on both Anji and Baiken, and Chipp Zanuff was no easy target, either.  There was no telling how many robots would be waiting for them or if there were other, greater weapons as well.  It was just what he didn't want to be thinking about at the moment.

Testament climbed into the attic space once more, frowning to himself over his next task.  Ky was curled comfortably on his side, looking peaceful and content, and he hated to wake him.  But he had no choice, and as gently as he could manage he crawled up beside the man, giving his shoulder a shake.  "Ky.  Wake up."

Ky grumbled lazily, wriggling up against Testament's chest and falling still again.  The Gear sighed and shook him again.  "Ky.  Come on—wake up."

"No," came the sleepy response, and though his refusal was making things difficult, it was unexpectedly charming.  Ky pawed weakly at Testament's face as if to draw him back down.

"Ky."  This time Testament's voice was sharp, urging Ky onto his back.  "Ky, there's been trouble.  We have to go."

At last Ky's eyes opened, taking in Testament's face as his words finally seeped into him.  "Trouble?" he echoed, glancing about, disoriented.  All at once his gaze came into focus; he met Testament's eyes seriously, as if in an instance all their tranquility melting away into sharpened clarity.  "What happened?"

Testament's own eyes thinned subtly as he slipped back, allowing Ky to sit up.  "It's Baiken," he explained shortly.  "She's waiting for us in Benevento.  She and Anji were attacked."

"How soon can we leave?"  Already Ky was crawling out of the triangular space, tugging his shirt on.  His pants, however, had fallen to the floor below, and after a brief moment of confusion he climbed down after them.  "Does Johnny know?  Can we leave right away?"

"They're getting _Mayship_ ready right now," Testament called after him as he found his own shirt.  On the way down he caught sight of Ky's paper shopping bag, and was careful in bringing it with him.  "Baiken's all right, but they have Anji.  But the good news is Bridget's found some information for us."

"Is he all right?" Ky asked with concern as he finished dressing and headed for the door.

"As far as we know."  

Testament hurried after him, a little startled by the suddenness of Ky's resolve.  As they stepped outside, however, he saw Ky shiver, saw his shoulders droop a little.  He didn't turn or speak, but Testament was sure he was experiencing the same sensation that he himself was.  It lasted only a moment, and then Ky had started up the beach the way Johnny had gone.  "I hope he has good news for us."

"Yes…."

Testament was still a moment, watching Ky's straight back as he made his way back toward the road leading away from the House.  Just like that, it had ended.  There was no announcement or spoken word, and yet as Ky moved further away up the sand Testament knew, with certainty, that everything had passed.  That they would never come this way again.

He closed his eyes.  It was only a moment, no longer than the pause that had taken Ky a minute ago, and then he was following his companion away from the shore.

*****

True to Johnny's word, not half an hour later _Mayship_ was about to launch.  Ky stood back a while longer, watching the final preparations as the rest of the crew scuttled on board.  He was weary, but anxious, Thunderseal's weight against his hip an unwelcome reminder to what they were about to be faced with.  He would have to rest on the way to the settlement, he knew, but how he would accomplish that he didn't yet know.

He caught sight of Testament just across the field, boarding the ship along with the girls, and his breath caught when their eyes met.  The Gear smiled, only slightly, before ducking aboard, allowing Ky's posture to slump once more.  He sighed quietly as he lowered his gaze.  He felt suddenly guilty about his hasty departure earlier; they hadn't had a chance to talk about what they'd done, and in truth he was dreading it to a degree.  He had a feeling that anything he tried to say would come out sounding too much like a farewell.

"Ky?"

The officer turned, and was a little startled to find Dizzy coming up to him with a large bag in her arms.  He managed a weak smile for her sake.  "Dizzy.  You're not coming with us?"

She shook her head.  "Johnny asked me to look after everyone until he and Youn got back," she explained.  "But I wanted to catch you before you left."  She offered the bag to him.  "This is for Bridget.  I hope he likes it."

Ky accepted the parcel.  "Whatever it is, I'm sure he will."  He hesitated awkwardly.  "Did…you see Testament off?  We don't know when we'll be coming back here…." Or even if they would be at all, though he didn't want to say that.

"Yes, I talked to him a little while ago."  Dizzy smiled shyly and gave a short bow.  "Please look after him for me."

Ky licked his lips.  "Yes.  I will."  He shifted the bag into one arm so he could offer her a formal bow as well.  "Thank you, Dizzy, for everything.  I won't forget your kindness."

Dizzy blushed.  "You're welcome.  Please take care."

"And you as well."

They parted, Ky taking to the ship just as the engines began to reach their full power.  Soon they were underway, and Ky made his way to the bridge so that he could better see the land slip away beneath them.  So suddenly, they were leaving.  The few days they had spent on this far off island had seemed like an eternity, and their departure like the disturbance of a deep dream.  There would be no sparkling shoreline and laughing children where they were going now, and distantly, he realized that he might never see this place again.  The thought twisted something in his chest like mourning.

Ky straightened, remembering abruptly the trinkets he'd purchased in the town, and his mouth went dry as he moved closer to the wide glass windows.  But already his view of the House was gone as _Mayship_ turned her nose to the east.  His shoulders dropped in dismay.

"Ky."

Ky turned to find Testament watching him, and he felt inordinately relieved to see him holding his paper bag.  He accepted it with a faint grin.  "Thank you.  I thought I'd forgotten them."

"You did," Testament replied teasingly, and Ky was thankful again to see a shining of subtle humor in the Gear's bright eyes.

Johnny cleared his throat nearby, and both glanced up.  "It'll be a few hours," the pirate reported, arms crossed and doing his best to look not at all uncomfortable.  "The two of you might want to…get some rest."  He glanced at them pointedly.  "You could use it."

Ky blushed, glancing at Testament briefly; he hadn't realized that Johnny might have figured it out.  But the girls were suddenly watching them closely, and he nodded shortly.  "Yes, that's a good idea.  You'll send word when we're close, won't you?"

Johnny lifted an eyebrow.  "Of course."

Ky's fingers curled slightly, and with a half-hearted smile he slipped out of the bridge.  It wasn't until he'd gone a few steps that he realized Testament was following.  He gulped.  "Testament…."

"He's right.  I could use some rest."

A hand fell on Ky's shoulder, and he was glad the girls were no longer around to see his embarrassment.  He lifted a hand to cover Testament's.  "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The Gear chuckled.  "Nothing permanent."

They reached the room the two had shared before, and Ky sighed quietly, setting all his things on the table.  Now…was probably the time to say something.  He turned and parted his lips to speak, but Testament was already settling himself in his old bunk.  Watching him stretch out, so naturally, stole his nerve.  There was no way to speak his mind.

Once Testament was comfortable he lifted his eyes, and with a slight smile offered his hand.  "Just for a few hours," he invited quietly.

Ky's lips parted again, and again failed him.  He could only smile grimly as he stepped slowly forward to slip his worn fingers around smooth ones.  "All right," he whispered as he sank to the mattress.  He allowed Testament to pull him down, arranging their bodies comfortably on the thin bed.  Just for a while…he could take his rest here, and he closed his eyes, finding it easier to achieve than he would have thought.

*****

It had not yet reached morning by the time _Mayship_ landed on a small airstrip just outside the Benevento settlement.  It was one of the largest cities left in Italy that had not been completely razed by the war, and even from its outskirts the forms of huge ceramic sculptures could be seen.  Ky had been here before, as it housed the only station for the Global Police in the country, and he tried to make a point to visit when he could.  It would be an important station if he ever amassed enough support to take Rome one day.

He and Testament stepped down from the ship, stretching weary limbs and hefting the small travel packs they'd prepared during the last hour of the flight.  Both had bathed and were dressed now in the garb they'd worn into Rome.  Ky found the change to not be quite as dreadful as he'd imagined it would be, especially now that his nails, at least, were free of color.  And he had to admit, Testament did look even more impressive bound in his own black leather.

They'd taken a few steps when Ky realized suddenly that Johnny wasn't following them, and he turned back, watching the man.  "You're not coming with us?" he asked curiously.

The pirate smirked, coming down the few steps from the ship's exit.  "I'm afraid not," he declared.  "Youn's going to meet us here, and then we're heading back home.  I've got a lot of vacation time to look forward to."  He adjusted his hat.  "Besides, if I come with you I know of at least one person who will be right on my heels, and I can't let her get involved any further in this."

Ky nodded, and he came forward, offering his hand.  "I understand.  And I thank you, for supporting me this far.  I know it wasn't an easy choice for you, considering our…conflicts of interest."

Johnny shook his hand, and after a moment tugged him in for a sturdy hug and a clap on the back.  "Watch yourself, you crazy bastard," he laughed.  "And stay the hell away from my island."

Ky chuckled as he was released.  "I'll certainly try."

Johnny then turned to Testament, and the pair said their farewells a bit more seriously.  "Testament."  Johnny tipped his hat.  "Always a pleasure."

Testament nodded.  "Look after her."

"Of course."  Johnny's face softened briefly, and then he stepped back with a grand bow.  "Good luck, gentlemen.  And happy hunting."

They parted ways then, Ky and Testament heading into the settlement.  It was a short trip; Ky knew his way through this city far better than he'd known Rome, and within half an hour they were in front of the Global Police station in the west district.  "Johnny said Bridget would be waiting for us near here," Ky said thoughtfully, and he turned a full 180 degrees.  There was a bar just across the street from where they were.  "Let's see if he's here."

It was a small bar, and quiet, given its position so close to the station; Ky was worried a moment that it would bring them trouble, as it was frequented by officers and Baiken was sure to draw attention if she were to meet them here.  He needn't have worried; he wouldn't have recognized her himself if not for being able to pick out Bridget's familiar face among the thinning crowd.  He was seated in a table near the back, eating voraciously from the last of several plates which still bore food.  He waved excitedly as the pair approached.

"Hey!"  Bridget looked about to call their names, but caught himself in time with a guilty giggle.  "Look who I found."

He indicated the woman at his left, and Ky blinked at her dumbly for a long moment before finally recognizing her.  He'd never seen her with her hair down, and it fell in long, straight curtains about her face, masking her tattoos and blemishes.  Her usual _yukata_ was gone as well, replaced with garments she'd probably purchased in town, by the look of them: a white, thin-strapped top with a dark blue jacket over it, the thick sleeves rolled up to her elbows; a thick black belt from which her sword was hung; and long blue pants that flared slightly around the thick boots she was resting on the table.

Baiken shot him a glare at the look he was giving her.  "Do I have something on my face?"

"My apologies."  Ky sank into a chair beside Bridget, who was beaming—doubtlessly pleased that he was in the outfit he'd bought for him.  "It's been a while."

"Not long enough," Baiken snorted.  Though her attire had changed her manners hadn't, and she paused for a long drink.  "Where's Johnny?"

Ky shook his head.  "It's just us."  His tone lowered slightly.  "We heard, about Anji.  What happened?"

Baiken's eyes dulled somewhat as she finished her drink.  "They took him," she answered gruffly.  "Carted him off, along with most of my weapons and his.  It was those robots, and…."  She glanced away.  "Chipp Zanuff.  There was something wrong with him.  There's no way he'd work for them otherwise."

Ky and Testament both straightened in their seats.  "You're saying…he was being controlled somehow?" the former said carefully.

"Yeah.  Seemed that way."

Ky looked to Testament, but the Gear shook his head to indicate he knew nothing of it.  Which meant…the Ninth was capable of even more than they'd previously expected.  The officer frowned.  "Well, at least you managed to escape," he murmured, and then turned to Bridget with a slight smile.  "And you, too.  Did you do all right in Zepp?"

"Yeah!  It was really cool."  Bridget gulped down the rest of his soda before finishing.  "And I really think I found it.  I'll have to show you somewhere else, though—this place is about to close, and…" he glanced about with almost enthusiastic suspicion, "…I don't think it's safe."

Ky couldn't help but smile.  "All right.  Let's go somewhere, then."  He pushed to his feet and the others followed suit, Bridget setting out a handful of bills to pay for his meal and Baiken's drink.  The four of them then departed together, moving out into the streets in search of an inn with an empty room where they could share information and make their plan.

*****

When Sol awoke, he didn't feel much improved since when he'd fallen asleep.  However long ago that was.  He stretched, and yawned loudly in the still room.  It took him a while before he remembered where he was, and saw that Bridget had gone.  Scowling, he started to reach for the computer—it looked as if the last screen Bridget had been on was still there, and it would at least give him a clue as to what the boy might have discovered.  It was then that he noticed the note tapped to his headband.

Sol tugged it off, frowning to himself as he turned it over.  Written in Bridget's adorable cursive were the words, "Sorry I kicked you so hard."


	21. Chapter 20

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Another somewhat uneventful chapter, but they'll get to fight stuff in the next one, I promise ^^;;

**Culmination**

Chapter 20

By the time the group of four had found themselves a motel room it was just past three in the morning, and they were all exhausted.  None could rest, though; as soon as they were settled Bridget began tugging folded papers out of his pockets and spreading them out over the room's small table.  "I'm not one hundred percent positive," he confessed, "but everything I was able to find points here—to a factory just outside Benevento, in the mountains."

He indicated the position on a map he'd printed out, and they all leaned forward, looking it over critically.  Ky frowned.  "That is close," he murmured thoughtfully.  "Awfully close to the only police power in Italy.  Why would they risk something like that?"

"Hiding out in the open?" Baiken suggested, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a straw she'd brought from the bar.  "No offense to your _police_, Kiske, but they're already stretched thin across Italy, what with all the shady business Rome does."

"It is a good location," Testament added.  "This close to Rome they'd be able to smuggle plenty of raw materials in, and use Rome itself as a port from which to deploy their robots."

Ky nodded.  "You're right.  But Bridget, why do you suspect this place?"

Bridget bounced faintly on the bed edge that served as his chair.  "Thought you'd never ask!"  He began sifting through the different papers, laying out the relevant documents and photographs.  "The thing is, while I was in Zepp I got to meet Dr. Galleon."

"You…you met him?" Ky echoed, straightening.

"Yeah.  And at first I thought he was the one behind everything.  Now I'm not so sure, but I did find something out."  He tugged out the photo of Dr. Galleon he'd printed and set it on top.  "Recognize him?"

Testament's eyes widened as he looked over the creased black and white photograph.  Ky's attention was drawn to him in concern, keeping him a moment for glancing at the picture himself.  At first he wasn't sure what Bridget was indicating, as he'd met Dr. Galleon before and found nothing extraordinary in his features, but after a long moment of scrutiny he gasped softly.  It had never occurred to him before.  "He looks like…."  Next to him, Baiken made a soft noise of disapproval from the back of her throat.

Bridget nodded seriously.  "Yeah, doesn't he?  So I started looking through Dr. Galleon's history."  Another shift of paper.  "I didn't find much.  He was born in Italy, and his father was listed as having died in the war when he was still a kid.  He lived with his mom until heading off to school in Zepp—where he learned about machines and stuff. From there he became a scientist, trying to make machines that could be used against Gears, but Justice was sealed before he could finish anything."

Ky nodded along vaguely; that story, at least, was familiar to him.  "Go on."

Bridget grinned briefly, seemingly thrilled that the others were listening to his findings so intently.  "So," he continued excitedly, "after that I went looking up all the people that worked with Dr. Galleon.  I thought that maybe one of them had taken the information they had on the Robo Kys and finished it somewhere, after the war.  That didn't turn up anything either, until I stumbled on a friend of a friend of his—Dr. Leona Mariot.  Which is how I found the factory."

Bridget paused, shuffling again through his papers for a moment as the other three exchanged glances.  "Ah!  Here it is."  But he kept the printout held against his chest a moment, hiding it for dramatic effect, as it seemed.  "Dr. Mariot was originally from Rome—a medical doctor who worked on a small project with Dr. Galleon in Zepp.   Took me forever to track her down, since she was an orphan, and changed her name once she was old enough.  But I found out that she lived for a while in Benevento with foster parents.  And her foster father owned this factory.  It went out of business just after the war, but before then it was used to make engines for airships that ran on lightning magic.  Wouldn't it be easy to convert something like that to making robots that use electricity?"

"That's all well and good," Baiken interrupted, flicking her straw thoughtlessly away.  "But that just means it's a possibility.  You haven't shown us any proof."

Bridget's grin widened, as if she'd just said exactly what he was waiting for.  He pressed his paper onto the table.  "Then how's this?"

The print out was from an article of the news; a color photograph took up most of the space with an image of the factory itself, and in front of it stood a crowd of people celebrating its success.  There was a young girl with long, red-brown hair among them, held in a man's arm: a tall man with sloppy brown hair and deep-set, dark eyes.

Testament's reaction was immediate; he leaned back with a sharp intake of breath.  "That's him," he hissed, and Ky and Baiken cringed slightly as well as they recognized the face.  "That's the Ninth."  He looked sharply to Bridget.  "What does this mean?"

Bridget's expression sobered, realizing it was inappropriate for him to be so proud given the gravity of their situation.  "Dr. Mariot is working with the Ninth," he summarized quietly.  "She has Dr. Galleon's work to go from, and the factory belonged to her dad.  She knows how to use medicine and machines together.  It has to be her."

"Then Dr. Galleon…must be working with them as well," Ky murmured, the realization of which he found somewhat disheartening.  "The robot still named him as its creator."

"I thought so, too, but…."  Bridget relinquished the last of his reports.  "I found this—an obituary, for Dr. Galleon's father."  He lowered his eyes.  "Arthur Galleon Sr."

Ky blinked in astonishment.  "Then that means—"

"I think so, especially since they look so much alike.  The robot might have not been naming Dr. Galleon, but his dad.  Dr. Galleon is the Ninth's son."

The four were silent for a long time, staring down at all the information Bridget had gathered: the photographs of Dr. Galleon and his father.  The factory and its position on the map.  The dark eyes.  The announcement of Arthur Galleon's death, dated just before his first meeting with Testament decades ago.

"I don't know if Dr. Galleon himself is working with them," Bridget spoke up at last.  "He's working with Potemkin, so I don't think Potemkin suspects him, but that means he can't really be talking to the Ninth and Dr. Mariot very easily.  I think…he's just trying to protect his dad."

Another moment passed, and then Baiken shifted slightly, her eye dull.  "When can we leave?"

"The factory is in the mountains," Bridget reported.  "From what I could find we'd either have to go by truck or just walk.  If we walk it'll take us a while to get there."

Ky nodded.  "We may have to go on foot; anything else will draw attention.  But we're all exhausted."  He glanced between them with a quiet sigh.  "Aren't we?  I hate to put it off any longer, but we need rest."

Baiken didn't look pleased, but she nodded, pushing to her feet.  "Then we sleep," she muttered.  "Leave at midday and get there by dusk.  We'll take them in the dark."  She cocked an eye at Ky.  "Does that work for you?"

Ky considered a moment; it seemed like they would be wasting unnecessary time, but he knew better than to think any of them were at their best.  "Yes," he agreed.  "Go ahead and take one of the beds, Baiken.  If Testament and Bridget can share a bed, I don't mind taking a chair."

"Fine by me."  She dropped heavily to the bed in question.

Bridget frowned.  "You can take my spot on the bed, Ky," he offered brightly.  "I'm small—I can sleep in the chair."

"No, it's all right.  You've been up all night."  He stood, patting Bridget's shoulder with a serious smile.  "You've done a great job.  I don't know what we would have done without you."

Bridget beamed, puffing himself up with pride.  "Just trying to help," he replied as modestly as possible.  

Ky smiled, and glanced briefly at Testament; the Gear was still watching the photographs on the table, and he gave his shoulder a squeeze.  "Get some sleep," he suggested.  "I'm going to see if there's anything to drink around, and then I'll be back."

Testament nodded vaguely, so instead Ky looked to Bridget with a request in his expression.  The boy seemed to understand, as he pushed lightly to his feet and began to tug Testament out of his chair.  "C'mon, big guy.  You look paler than usual—let's rest up.  Big day coming up."

Bridget managed to get him up and, pleased, Ky smiled and headed for the door.  "I won't be long," he promised as he slipped outside.

Bridget glanced after him, wetting his lips.  But he shook his head, focusing instead on getting Testament to the bed.  "You okay?" he asked, giving him a nudge.

Testament nodded as he sank to the bed, kicking off his boots and stretching out on his stomach.  "I'm fine," he murmured.  "Just tired."

Bridget frowned, but he knew better than to question; he seated himself on the bed and, seeing it as his duty to look after the Gear while Ky was away, reached out to draw the thick black hair away from his face.  A quick glance at Baiken showed her to be asleep, and another at the door made sure Ky wasn't coming back.  He took a deep breath.  "Testament?"

"Hm?"

"There's…something else."  He slipped out of his own boots and belt and lowered himself to the bed so he could whisper and still be heard, just in case.  "I met Sol in Zepp.  He helped me look up all the stuff I found—for a while, anyway.  I…don't know if I should tell Ky."

Testament was silent for a long moment, unmoving on the bed as he considered.  "No," he decided at last.  "No, I don't think you should."

"But there's a chance he'll be there," Bridget continued.  "He was asking Potemkin about Ky—I think he's looking for him."

"If he shows up, we can deal with it then."  Testament turned enough so that he could meet Bridget's gaze, conveying his seriousness.  "Remember what happened in Rome?  If it comes up again it'll only be worse.  There's no need to upset him now, when there's already so much to worry about."

Bridget nodded, trusting the Gear's judgment.  "All right.  I won't say anything."

As Testament rolled onto his side so did Bridget, shifting so that their backs were just touching.  It was a comfortable warmth, and he knew it would be easier to sleep knowing he wasn't alone.  Just as he was drifting off to sleep he felt Testament move slightly, and his low voice whispered, "You did a good job, Bridget."

Bridget smiled into his pillow.  "Thank you…."

*****

Ky took his time returning to the room, gulping down the remains from the large plastic drinking cup he'd found down the hall.  Somehow his mouth didn't feel any less dry, but he was relieved to have something filling his stomach.  He was nervous, and ashamed to admit it, but what they were about to face deserved his full attention and appreciation.  The operation they were about to interrupt was that of the Postwar Administration Bureau, and their retribution would be fierce.  He wasn't sure yet what that might mean for him.

Ky slipped back inside, and was somewhat relieved to see that his three companions seemed to have already fallen asleep.  He set his cup aside, saving it for later, as he shed his boots and wristbands.  It would have been more comfortable to change into the pajamas he'd brought along, but he didn't want to sleep in for too long; now that they knew Anji and Chipp had been taken, they were running short of time.

Ky had just turned toward the chair that would serve as his bed when he paused, glancing at Testament and Bridget curled together on the bed.  There was something about the sight of them that made his lips curl happily; despite everything, both Gear and boy appeared content in their slumber.  There was something about Bridget.  He had felt it himself; that enthusiasm, determination, and care were contagious, and he couldn't help but be calmed in his presence.  He reasoned it must have been the power of an innocent youth attracting him.

"There's room here."

Ky glanced up at the sound of Baiken's voice; she was lying on her back, arm laying easily over her stomach and eye half lidded.  She had moved to the far edge of the bed to make room for him.

"It's all right," Ky assured, smiling and genuinely appreciative of the gesture.  "Thank you, but I said you could take the bed for yourself."

Baiken grunted softly and closed her eye.  "I don't need your chivalrous crap.  Shut up and get down here—you need as much rest as any of us."

Ky surrendered a quiet chuckle.  Unable to argue such an eloquently stated point he joined her on the bed, lying on his back.  It occurred to him then that he hadn't been able to sleep on his back, as he would normally have preferred, for a long time, and he found it inordinately soothing.  With a quiet sigh he nestled into the mattress.  "Thank you."

"Sure."

Silenced followed for a while, each of the pair indulging in their own thoughts.  It was then that it occurred to Ky that they hadn't told Baiken quite everything they knew—or supposed they knew—about the Ninth and his plans.  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and could see only long strands of bright hair, the tip of her nose.  "Baiken.  There's…something you should know.  About what's going on here."

Baiken didn't move, and he thought her asleep until she replied, "If you're talking about the Bureau wanting to turn us Japanese into their robot slaves, I heard it all from Bridget already.  To save you the trouble."

Ky sighed quietly, but there was no need to soften the point now.  "When you saw Chipp in Rome," he ventured carefully, "Did you notice anything different about him?  Other than…the obvious."

"No."  Her fingers curled stiffly against her middle.  "He didn't have any trouble with Anji.  Not that barehanded is his specialty to begin with.  But no, I didn't see anything 'robotic' about him, if that's what you're asking."

Ky nodded faintly.  "As far as we know, the Forbidden Rituals take time to perform," he said, wondering if she would take any solace in his words.  It was difficult to predict a woman like Baiken.  "Chances are neither he nor Anji has been changed yet.  So they should be all right, once we get them away from the Ninth."

"There's no way of knowing that," Baiken replied bitterly.  "We don't even know what those bastards did to Chipp.  It could be permanent."

"But we don't know that, so we should do whatever we can for them," Ky replied.

Baiken snorted, turning her head away, and Ky thought the discussion ended until her voice continued, softer than before.  "That damn idiot.  I had a feeling something like this would happen."

"You did?" Ky echoed curiously.  He hoped she would elaborate, but he didn't dare ask.

"Yeah.  After he told me about how he met…."  She hesitated.

"It's all right.  I've already heard."

"Well, then you know what I mean."  Baiken sighed heavily.  "I knew no good could come out of it.  That's why I was trying to get him back home.  If…."  Ky could see her hand tensing against her stomach.  "We should have just moved on, instead of waiting.  Then he never would have got caught, the fool."

Ky raised his eyes to the ceiling.  Irony was at his heels again.  Here he was, captain and champion of the Global Police, about to go infiltrate a government factory alongside a Gear and wanted criminal to rescue more wanted criminals.  But watching Baiken now, hearing the concern in her voice when she spoke of her fallen comrade, he couldn't regret it.  "We'll get him back," he promised.  "And he'll be fine."

He glanced over and found her watching him, her one good eye half-lidded once more but attentive.  "I know," she replied, simply, and then she turned her head away, settling in to sleep.

And for the first time since he'd met her, during the tournament, he found himself wondering.  About her scars and her missing limb, her history as a Japanese—all the things that would have once not mattered at all to him, other than that she was a wanted fugitive.  He wasn't used to finding such curiosity in himself, and he was oddly grateful for it.  Smiling faintly, he cast his gaze to Testament a Bridget in the next bed, just to see if they were already asleep as well.  He prayed morning would find them all more or less rested.

*****

By the time Ky awoke he quickly found that he was the last of them still in bed, and he sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  Light was streaming in through the blinds to his right, making him blink.  "I overslept," he murmured.

"It's not that late," came Bridget's reply from the bathroom.  "Testament and Baiken should be back soon."

Ky pushed to his feet, stretching so that the leather complained softly against his chest.  He passed a hand back through his hair as he moved to retrieve his boots and belt.  "How long is my hair going to stay this color?" he asked idly.

"Not much longer.  Less than a month, for sure."

That was still too long for Ky's preference, but he only smiled glumly as he tightened the bands around his wrists.  He glanced at a small clock near the beds: it was almost ten already.  "You should have woken me," he called.  "It's late already."

"Testament said you needed it."

Ky blushed faintly, and was glad Bridget couldn't see.  Once he was finished gathering his things he followed the sound of Bridget's voice toward the bathroom—the door was open.  "What are you up to in there?"

"Just getting ready," Bridget replied brightly.  "Do you still have your contacts?"

Ky frowned.  "They're in my bag.  Do you really think they're necessary…?"  He rounded the corner, and his eyes widened faintly in surprise at the sight of the boy.  "What is that?"

"Hm?"  Bridget turned away from the mirror.  He was dressed now in an outfit of black leather, not unlike that of Ky and Testament's attire.  It consisted of a strapless top and knee-length skirt split up both sides to his hip, so that his black shorts could be seen underneath.  There were belt-like straps on his biceps, forearms, and thighs, another around his neck, and his shoes replaced with thick black boots.  And, of course, the huge iron belt that hung off his hips.

"What is all this?" Ky asked, gesturing to the outlandish outfit.

"I just wanted us to match," Bridget replied, grinning at Ky's baffled expression.  He spun, though more impressive than the sway of fabric was the movement of his weighted belt.  "What do you think?  I asked Dizzy to make it for me."

"_This_ is what Dizzy asked me to give you?" Ky said incredulously.

"Yup!  How is it?"

"It's…."  Ky was at a loss for words.  He did seem to fit right in with him and Testament now, with all the leather and bared skin, revealing that Bridget was, despite most outward appearance, relatively well-muscled for his age.  His ability to bear his own accessories was proof of that.  "It's…really something," Ky managed at last.  "But why…?"

"Because I'm coming with you, of course," Bridget said as if it were obvious, turning back to the mirror so he could go about tying his hair up.  "I want to fit in, and I can't have the Bureau recognizing me, now can I?"

Ky shook his head, though he hadn't really heard what Bridget was saying.  "You can't come with us."

The boy paused, then continued tightening the tie on his hair.  "Well, I am."

"No," Ky returned more firmly, taking a step closer.  "You're not."

"Am, too."

"You are not."

"Am, too."

Ky sighed, shaking his head again before he could be drawn into something like that.  "Bridget, it's going to be—"

"What?  Dangerous?"  Bridget turned around, his eyes as serious and bright as any young soldier Ky had ever seen.  "I'm the one that got you the information, right?  So I have a right to be there, just like you."

"But Bridget—" Ky tried again.

"Besides, I can fight," he continued unphased.  "There's going to be a lot of those robots, and maybe even the Ninth and Chipp—and maybe Anji, too, if they've gotten to him already.  You need as many people with you as you can get, even if it's just to cause a diversion.  I'm fast and I can throw my weight around when I need to."

Bridget turned back, adjusting his skirt.  "And Testament said I could, so there."

Ky's shoulders sagged in defeat; again, out-played by a boy.  But dislike it as he may, Bridget did have a point.  "All right," he conceded heavily.  "But stay close to one of us at all times—there's no telling what we're going to find in there, and we can't have you falling behind."

"Yeah yeah.  Now get your contacts in."

His voice was light, and Ky could easily see the boy's excited grin through the mirror's reflection.  And though he didn't want to have to believe that sending children into battle could ever amount to peace, this may have been the right thing.  His trust in Bridget could stretch a little further.

Just as the pair were finishing their final preparations Testament and Baiken returned, bearing fresh fruit, bread, and milk, as well as four dark gray cloaks.  Testament explained that they would make it all the better for them to travel unnoticed through the barren rocks along the mountain pass.  Ky agreed, and the four of them together ate and poured once more over the different maps and printouts Bridget had made.

"If this isn't the right place," Baiken said gruffly, "we're going to look pretty foolish."  She slipped a thick rubber band over her fingers and reached back; it was impressive to see her gather all her hair together in one hand and work the tie around it, then twist it again for a more secure hold.  Bridget and Testament looked especially impressed, and a moment later Ky caught Bridget attempting the same with little success.

"It has to be here," Ky replied with a sure nod.  "Bridget was right: Dr. Galleon, Dr. Mariot, the Ninth—it's all too much of a coincidence to be anything but what we're looking for."  He finished the last piece of fruit and pushed out of his chair.  "Even if there are other sites in addition to this one, we should be able to get some information."  He looked to each of them in turn.  "Are you all ready?"

"Yeah!" Bridget said quickly, jumping to his feet as well.  He paused to gulp down the last of his milk and licked his lips.  "Whenever you are."

Testament and Baiken stood, each nodding their agreement.  As a group they left the motel room, heading out through the streets toward the city limits.  Ky took to the lead.  They moved quickly and without a word passed between them, and it wasn't until they'd reached the road that led into the mountains that he realized Testament was beside him.

"This looks like it," Testament said quietly as he tugged his cloak over his shoulders.

Ky nodded and followed suit.  "Yes, it does," he agreed.  "If we follow this road, we should reach there in a few hours."

Testament frowned; Ky had misunderstood, as was clear from what the Gear said next.  "When it's over, what will you do?"

"I…."  Ky's voice faltered, but his gait did not as he continued out of the city.  "I don't know."


	22. Chapter 21

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

**Culmination**

Chapter 21

Their trip through the mountain pass was uneventful, to the relief and convenience of the four travelers.  Ky stayed at the lead, Bridget just beside and behind him, followed by Baiken and then Testament bringing up the rear.  They saw and encountered no one, though each could clearly see in the dusty path the imprint of a vehicle's markings.  They were recent, and it put them on their guard.

"Do you think the Ninth will be there?" Bridget asked as they went, his eyes wide and bright as he scanned the area, as if expecting an attack at any moment.  "He was just in Rome, we might be right behind him."

"It's possible," Ky conceded quietly.  "Baiken did say she injured him—he might have returned here with Anji for treatment.  Though if what Testament says is true, even a sizable wound wouldn't be enough to slow him down for long."

Bridget hummed thoughtfully, and cast a quick glance back over his shoulder.  He lowered his voice.  "Does Testament really know this guy?"

"Yes."  Ky resisted the temptation to turn himself.  "But he'll be all right."

Bridget frowned, but he didn't question.  He gave his cloak a slight flap and continued on.

They stopped several hours in for a rest and to eat—each had packed themselves a simple lunch and fresh water, to keep their energy level high for when they finally encountered trouble.  When they reached the factory it was just past six in the evening, and though the long hike had left them weary the sight of their destination was enough to keep their senses alert and weapons ready.  The factory was larger than it had appeared in the news article; nestled against a flat rising of stone it looked almost like a fortress, with thick iron walls and tall smokestacks in rows along the top.  A broad, solid metal fence surrounded the compound and was topped with barbed wire.  The path leading up to it seemed to have been cut from rock, making it almost like a funnel channeling straight to the main gates.  There was no way to approach from the front without being spotted, and unless they started scaling walls no way to move around toward the rear.

Ky led them off the path, up a small incline to a flat hill overlooking the factory and its surroundings.  They were still far enough as to stay out of view as they rested and planned.  As the others took sips of water Ky snuck a little higher, surveying the area and building with a sharp eye.  He returned to the three with a quiet sigh.  "It's not going to be easy getting in there unnoticed," he told them.  "It looks like the gate is the only way in."

"Then we wait for dark," Baiken suggested with a slight shrug.  "We have every advantage at night—robots aside, the people in that factory still need to sleep."

"The longer we wait, the higher the risk for them to start…working on Anji," Ky reminded her quietly.  "Are you all right with that?"

Baiken snorted.  "Of course not.  But what other choice is there?"  She leaned back against a slab of rock and waved vaguely at the factory.  "Chances are right now the whole place is in full swing.  We don't know how many robots they have, what kind of manned security—we don't know anything.  There could be another of your robot-man friends running around in there for all we know.  If we go at night we might at least have some element of surprise."

Ky smiled humorlessly at her.  "You sound like you've laid siege to this kind of compound before," he remarked.

She sent him a bitter glare, then returned his grim expression.  "Am I right or what?"

"I'm not sure if there's much point in stealth," Testament spoke up evenly.  "As soon as we're discovered the entire factory will know, and those robots will be more adept to spotting us in the dark than we will to them."  He tilted his chin up subtly.  "But if nothing else, my magic will be more useful at night.  Enough to get us up to the gate without being spotted."

"Really?"  Ky frowned.  "Though the next question is how to get through it."

"I can handle that, too, if you don't mind it being…flashy."

"I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"Well, shouldn't we decide exactly what we're going to do once we're in there?" Bridget asked, curling his arms around his knees.  "There's a lot.  We need to watch out for robots, and the Ninth, and Chipp, and maybe Anji, and…and more robots…."  He clicked his feet together.  "Are we just going to beat up everything we find?"

Ky shook his head, pausing to glance up again at the structure.  "We need information, as well.  Access…to a computer, maybe, that can tell us if there are more facilities like this.  How many other Japanese have been captured.  Anything about what was done to Chipp to make him act like that."  He turned back to Bridget.  "You must be pretty comfortable with computers, to have discovered everything that you did in Zepp."

Bridget nodded brightly.  "That's right.  I don't really know anything about breaking into them, but if we do find a computer, I should be ale to get some information from it."

"Good."  Ky continued to stare at the factory, letting his thoughts arrange themselves into the beginnings of a plan.  He had done things like this before; attacking entire cities overrun with Gears, infiltrating hideouts for criminals and smugglers.  He was an officer, and leadership in this kind of situation should come easily for him.

"We have three objectives," Ky began seriously, snapping his attention back to his allies.  "To gather information, to rescue Anji and Chipp, and to halt the operation of the robots.  The equipment for building the robots is most likely in the lower levels, and we should expect that there will be plenty of the robots there.  That you can leave to me.  I know their fighting style better than anyone here, and now that I can use Thunderseal freely, unless they have several hundred waiting there I shouldn't have a problem."

"Several hundred?" Baiken echoed with an incredulous snort.  "Even a few of those are deadly—there's got to be at least between fifty to a hundred of those things in there, and that's more than enough."

Bridget grinned as he rocked lightly.  "You don't know how strong Ky is," he said.  "He was able to kill fifty of them before—even without being able to use his magic."

"Fifty?"  She glared at him.  "I don't believe that."

Amused by their debate over his abilities, Ky smiled.  "I'll be fine," he assured Baiken.  "I can handle the robots, and they're not our biggest concern.  Do you think you can handle Chipp?"

Baiken turned back to Ky, her expression hard.  "Yeah, I can take Chipp," she grumbled.  "The harder part is not dismembering him in the process."  She patted her sword hilt.  "But if you're going to tell me to look for Chipp and Anji and take care of that, I was going to do that anyway."

"Thank you."  Ky then looked to Bridget.  "Then it'll be up to you to gather the information we need," he told him.  "You and Testament should stay together—wherever they store their records will probably be heavily guarded.  Between the two of you, you should be able to manage."

Bridget nodded seriously, as did Testament.  "You can count on me," the former declared.

"What about the Ninth?" Baiken interrupted roughly.  "What do you plan to do if he's here?"

Ky couldn't help the flickering of his gaze to Testament, and the Gear stared back; they regarded each other steadily.  Though Ky had his own ideas for how to handle their inhuman opponent, he would defer to Testament's judgment.  This was his enemy more than any of theirs, and he deserved the last word.

Testament straightened subtly, recognizing that Ky was placing the matter in his hands.  The muscles along his neck tightened.  "Leave him to me," he said at last, his voice unwavering.  "I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure?" Ky asked quietly.  He knew well the effects memories could have in a battle as old and personal as this.

"Yes."  Testament's eyes narrowed, gleaming determinedly.  "If anyone else comes across the Ninth, they should lead him to me."  He met Ky's sole gaze.  "I can handle him.  Trust me."

Ky's chest ached faintly, and he nodded, assuring himself that he could do just that.  This was not his battle alone; he had his place, and even if that was not at the head of their assault, each of them had their given tasks.  All he could do now was trust them to complete their objectives.

"Then it's settled," the officer declared, glancing at each of them.  "We enter from the main gate.  Any robots we encounter I should be able to fend off, allowing the rest of you to continue inside.  Baiken will look for Chipp and Anji.  Testament and Bridget will search for information regarding the Bureau and their plans, as well as the Ninth.  I will continue to the factory itself and disable their equipment.  Once you've done all you can we'll meet back here."

He took a deep breath.  "Which leaves us left to decide only whether we wait until nightfall.  The robots can see well enough in the dark, and our vision will suffer for it.  But it will allow us some cover.  What do you all think?"

"It doesn't bother me either way," Bridget answered easily.  "I can see pretty well in the dark."  He plucked at his outfit.  "We'll blend in pretty well, too."

"I still say we wait," was Baiken's opinion.  "It's a risk, but if we can catch any of them off guard it'll be worth it."

Testament nodded.  "I agree.  Especially if I'm to fight the Ninth, I would prefer it."

Ky licked his lips.  "Then it's settled.  We wait until nightfall."  He tugged his cloak a little tighter around himself and settled in against the rock.  

Time passed slowly as they waited up on the hill, checking their equipment time and again, casting glances at the factory as dusk stained its metal surfaces bronze.  Ky watched it attentively; though he was unable to see over the thick wall surrounding it, he could almost sense the movement beyond iron and wire.  There were robots guarding the entrance, he was sure of it.  How many he had no idea, but even the thought of it made his fingers tingle against Thunderseal's hilt.  It hadn't been long since his first engagement with the machines, and he was anxious to finish what had nearly ended in Genoa.

This was his chance to think, even if he was somewhat unwilling to do so.  Every once in a while his gaze would slip to Testament, and a few times he caught the Gear watching him as well.  He would smile, or offer a nod of acknowledgement, and was returned with the same each time.  But with Baiken and Bridget present he could pass no words between them, offer nothing of encouragement or consolation.  Could not even speak of what had passed between them not more than a full day ago, when the memories were still so clear in his mind.  Everything had happened too fast, and he could feel his chance for closure slipping away with every passing minute.  

Everyone looked to Testament just as the sun disappeared below the western ridge of mountains, darkening the carved valley into an array of mixing shadows.  When the Gear deemed the hour late enough, he nodded and let his cloak flutter to the ground.  The others followed suit and began down the incline, keeping close on his heels as he led the way toward the gate—the officer shaking off his reprieve in favor of strict attention to their approaching goal.

Ky took a deep breath as the iron rose above them.  Though he couldn't yet imagine what the interior would be like, what they would come to face here at the end of their search, but there was a feeling of finality to the looming, dark form amidst stone.  He looked ahead of him, past Bridget, to the figure of Testament's back leading them.  The Gear lifted a hand, and from his palm leapt several of the thin crimson stalks Ky remembered.  They twisted themselves into a seal of magic, and as Ky watched, the shadows around them appeared to swell.  It only took a moment, like the sudden fall of thick fog, and then Testament's shape was swallowed in the growing dark.  It was eerie, and the officer took in a sharp, quiet breath at the sight of him vanishing just before his eyes.

They reached the gate swiftly, cloaked in Testament's spell, and there waited a moment longer for him to prepare another.  Ky's fingers ached faintly around Thunderseal's well-worn grip, and he could hear Bridget's breath hissing anxiously nearby.  He whispered a short prayer.  "Good luck, all of you."

Testament's magic expanded, blazing through his shadow spell into a broad, complex circle of twisting red light.  Its aura was chilling, and Ky grimaced as from the burning shape burst a gleaming mass of energy.  It almost seemed to bear a human countenance as it screamed toward the iron gates and impacted like waves on rock.  For a moment Ky thought the spell had failed, as the magic was spreading up along the metal, echoing a gruesome bellow up and down the mountain path.  But all at once there was a squeal of hinges, of scraping iron and stone, and the six-meter tall gates were stripped from the surrounding walls with a clamor.  The resounding thud of the doors striking the ground made Ky's ears ring and the earth tremble faintly beneath him.

Testament lowered his hand and glanced back at the trio.  "We're in."

"Fucking Gears," Baiken hissed as she stalked past him, clicking her sword from its sheath.  "I thought we were supposed to be _sneaking_ in, you stupid shit.  Now everyone knows we're here."

"Um…"

They followed Bridget's indication, and Baiken jumped despite herself when she found herself watching the advance of several dozen armed and blazing-eyed robots.  Bridget snapped both yo-yos into his hands as he edged closer to Testament's side.

"I think they would have spotted us anyway," he said sheepishly.

*****

Leona watched from the doorway.  Even if she was sure her presence had been noted by now she offered no greeting, no admonishment for the behavior she was witnessing.  She knew better than to think her wisdom would be heeded.  She would only wait here, in case he needed her.  She couldn't, however, help the narrowing of her eyes as the needle slipped into his pale forearm.

Finally growing annoyed with her vigilance, the Ninth raised his head with a scowl.  "You came here to say it, didn't you?  You might as well do so and be done with it."

"Then I will."  Leona stepped forward, her heels clicking softly on the metal floor.  She strode slowly and evenly to the bed her superior was seated on—again, knowing her words were wasted before she spoke them.  "I don't think you should be giving yourself more."

"I have to," he growled in return, already injecting the dark red fluid into his vein.  "I lost a lot of blood in Rome.  I can't afford that."

"But still."  She was interrupted when he lifted the syringe for her to take, which she obediently did.  "Still," she tried again, "we're still working on creating better nanomachines than these for you—and the research with the Japanese is almost complete.  With our two new samples, we should be able to test the Ritual soon.  Then we'll have the rest of the data we need to create you a better—"

The Ninth shook his head harshly.  "No.  No, I don't have time for that!  I'll be leaving here again, soon."  He passed his thumb over his forearm, and the tiny wound left by the needle was erased from his flesh.  He let his arm fall to his knee, and then with a sigh he dropped to the thin mattress.  "I need to finish something."

"You mean…."  Leona frowned severely.  "That Gear you mentioned?"

"Yes.  It's time I took care of him."  His dark eyes thinned, his face bearing that same vague, distant look he always bore when reminiscing.  Leona glanced away.  "Such a miserable creature…I will end him.  He should think it an act of mercy after this long of his pointless existence.  I will prove to them I was not _ineffective_.

"Fifty years too late," Leona reminded him.

The Ninth glared at her; she could feel his piercing stare against her cheek, but she was too used to it to let his anger bother her.  "It's true," she said, more quietly.  "Those old men don't care anymore whether or not you can kill Gears—only if you're able to build the army they want."

"I know that," he snapped, rolling onto his side, away from her.  "Now leave me."

Leona looked to him at last, her eyes dimming as she watched the man's turned back.  He was still denying what she had seen all along; his magic was fading.  The ritual performed so long ago was wearing thin—the tiny machines that filled his blood were too few, and even as his strength with ki and other magics had increased, his body was no longer keeping up.  The Forbidden Magic had long since ebbed, and even the advanced science brought down from Zepp was not enough to replace all that he had already lost.  He had been reduced to filling his body with supplements and imitations—his immortality was fading.

Leona took in a short breath.  "Sir."

"I said go."

"Sir, I talked to Arthur a few hours ago," she continued anyway.  "While you were resting.  He told me that Sol Badguy was investigating Zepp."

The Ninth sat rigidly upright, his eyes widening on the far wall.  "Sol Badguy…?" he echoed.  His fingers knotted fitfully in the stiff sheets.

"Yes.  He went to Potemkin, asking about our project—and Ky Kiske.  They all seem to think we have him."

"Ky Kiske…."  The Ninth was silent, and then his eyes sharpened, drawn abruptly into focus.  He leveled his gaze at the woman.  "What did he find out?"

"Arthur told them nothing," Leona answered quietly.  "But if Sol Badguy is already on our trail, he will find this place."  She folded her arms.  "What will you do?"

"Defeat him as well.  There is no other option."  He scowled at her.  "Now leave already.  Have Mito Anji taken to the laboratory—prepare him for the Ritual."

"Yes, Sir."  

Leona headed for the door, biting back any more remarks she might have had.  She had only made it a few steps, however, when one of the guards came rushing down the corridor towards her.  "Dr. Mariot!" he called, breathing hard.  "Dr. Mariot—we're under attack!  Several women just breeched the compound fence!"

"What?"  Leona paled, and turned back to catch her superior's response; he was already brushing roughly past her, and she caught only a glimpse of the hardened gleam in his eyes as he strode quickly away from her and the startled officer.

*****

Ky dodged out of the way of another incoming sword attack—a straight lunge, an attack he'd used many times before.  He had to admit, whoever had programmed his robot copies had done a nearly perfect job in studying his style and skill.  On anyone else, the strike would have at least drawn blood on some of the greatest of fighters.  But Ky knew nothing better than his own ability, and the inherent weaknesses in each move thrown at him.  It took only a short step out of range, a spin, to cleave the machine's head from its body, and a moment later three more were joining it on the stony courtyard floor.

"Damn lot of them, aren't there?" Baiken grunted.  On his left, she had just finished searing through the elbows of another robotic opponent.  She flashed him a quick glare.  "You'd better be as good as your mouth, Kiske."

Ky smiled humorlessly.  He took to the air, kicking off one of the robot's shoulders for the boost he needed to get above the latest of the approaching crowd of robots.  He could feel Thunderseal humming in his grip, and with a bit of satisfaction unleashed its energy in full.  The robots writhed—one or two shattered—under the pressure of his magic, and most had collapsed in steaming heaps long before his feet touched earth once more.

Baiken rolled her eye.  "Show off."

"Go on ahead," Ky told her, already taking up a new stance for when the rest arrived.  Off to his right Testament was just finishing off the last of his own nuisances, along with Bridget's help, but another group of robots was heading toward them.  He glanced through the swarms of metal, spotting a small, door-like entrance in the factory wall ahead.  "That way," he indicated with a nod.  His sword followed the gesture of his head in a sweeping arch, Thunderseal's magic striking a path through the robots and scattering debris in all directions.

Baiken shot him another glare, but without comment she turned and sprinted toward the doorway.  Assured that she would pass unharmed, Ky then turned his attention again to his remaining comrades.  "Testament!"

The Gear reeled, a burst of his own crimson magic engulfing a pair of robots as he took Bridget by the arm and started in Ky's direction.  A bit of lightning kept their way clear.  "There's a way in over there," Ky indicated toward Baiken's fleeing back.

"Will you be all right?" Bridget asked, a little breathless, as he started after her.

"Yes—go on.  I'll cover you."

Bridget nodded and hurried on, clamoring over the pile of bodies that was beginning to develop.  But when Testament started to continue past as well Ky felt something in his chest tighten, and without thinking he called out to him.  "Testament!"

Testament stopped, looking as if he'd been planning to all along, and his eyes widened as he watched Ky.  There they paused, regarding each other amidst the battlefield they'd briefly shared.  Testament's lips parted.  "Ky.  Whatever happens—"

Ky surged forward before he could finish; his hand caught the leather choker around Testament's neck, pulling him down so he could press to his mouth a firm kiss.  He held him there for a moment, tasting the sweat around his lips as Testament's breath hissed against his flushed cheeks.  When he pulled back he offered only a slight grin.  "Good luck," he breathed, and with that he turned suddenly, charging off after another group of approaching robots. He only heard Testament's departure, the dry chuckle that echoed back to him after he had joined Bridget and Baiken in their progress toward the factory's interior.

*****

Anji gasped quietly at the sudden, cold touch of metal against his forehead.  It sharpened his senses into a semblance of clarity he'd been lacking lately.  "Where…?"  His lips felt numb, and forming words other than that simple question didn't seem to be an option at the moment.

"Just relax, Mr. Mito.  The drugs are already wearing off."

Anji groaned softly, trying to squirm, but more of the cold metal bit into his wrists, ankles, and neck, keeping him still.  A thin sheet was draped over the lower half of his otherwise naked body.  He quickly gave up his struggles in favor of coaxing his eyelids to lift.  They showed him very little, however—only flashes of bright light, and the shadowed outline of moving figures around and above him.  "Are you…."  He gulped.  "Are you doing to me what you did to Chipp?"

Something pricked his finger, and he winced at the feeling of warm blood sliding down into his palm.  "No, Mr. Mito, I'm not," came the woman's voice again.  "I'm afraid it's worse than that."

A hand moved against him, collecting the blood from him.  A moment later he felt dampened fingertips moving over his chest, just above his heart.  It felt as a shape were being drawn upon his skin with a woman's fingernail, and it raised a feeling of dread in him.  "What are you doing?" he demanded, trying again to squirm.  "Stop it!"

The woman murmured something above him, indistinguishable, and then her heels tapped as she moved away.  "Get those cameras ready," she instructed.  "I want everything documented, in case something goes wrong and we have to change the procedure for when it's used on Mr. Zanuff."

"Let me go!" Anji cried, trying to struggle again without success.  The metal was starting to cut into his wrists.  "Damnit, what do you want from me?  Stop this!  Stop it!"

Her hand fell over him again, this time on his forehead; her fingertip was warm with his blood, and it sent through him an unnatural chill like ice in his veins.  That was all he remembered before the room darkened again around him.

*****

Ky gasped softly as he lowered his sword at last—thirty robots later, the courtyard seemed to be finally cleared of them.  He had been expecting worse, though he reasoned that if their creator were truly hunting his prey all over the globe, it would account for a lack of them here.  He wasted no time in his apparent victory.  Taking only a moment to glance over himself for injuries he ran for the entrance his companions had passed through earlier.

The doorway led to what must have been a security checkpoint of some kind, based on the sectioned off offices and automated doorways.  The men who had stood guard there were long since immobilized; unconscious, all of them, sprawled up and down the corridor.  Some had barely had the chance to draw weapons.  Pleased that none of them had been killed—testimony to his comrades' restraint—he moved quickly but carefully through them toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall.

Ky almost hated to admit it, but he was enjoying himself.  Since the war he had very few chances to unleash his power in full upon an opponent, and though he usually preferred it that way this was his chance to fight openly and without repercussions.  His enemies were robots, without mind or feeling, and he felt nothing of their slaughter as he charged through fresh ranks of them.

He was being brought back—returned, to a seemingly ancient time in which he had no care other than the thoughtless beasts before him.  To a time when his strength in battle was his ally, not his vice, and with lines between sides firmly drawn there was no need to question himself.  He remembered, once, being unyielding and strong, before the world changed and he came to fear that drastic instinct buried in his sword arm.  And now, in this moment, he could be that soldier again.  He could trust himself as Testament had said.

Everything was so much simpler, like this.  Not having to question his judgment before every strike.

At his breakneck pace Ky found the object of his search in little time.  Nearly two-dozen more of the robots had lined at the wide entrance doors, creating a barricade to prevent his invasion.  They launched their electricity at once in a broad attack that crackled and moved as if alive.  Ky lifted Thunderseal before him.  It hummed within his grasp, and though he had never done something quite like this before, with the help of his own manipulative talent he was able to collect their man-made electricity along his blade.  It was only for an instant, a heartbeat of concentration, and then the energy was screaming back towards its creators.  The robots were scattered, some shaking madly before falling still while others were splintered, and still others simply deactivated long before their collapse.  Only a handful survived the blast, and they were swiftly dealt with by the length of Ky's steaming blade.  Just punishment, he concluded with a slight nod, for the impersonation of an officer.

Ky stepped past the mess, into the broad factory setting that had been his goal all along.  The room was rectangular and long; twenty by fifty meters, at least, though his measurements may have been swayed by the presence of so much machinery filling every available space.  A wide conveyer belt stretched the length of the immense room, and the hum of its grinding gears echoed at ear-throbbing intensity among the metal walls. 

 Ky came forward slowly as his eyes swept over the apparatus.  One end of the belt made a curve towards the wall, to a large, closed entrance that appeared to be a loading area of some kind.  He assumed it was there that the raw materials were delivered, though there was nothing there now.  The entire factory had been emptied of workers, though admittedly he didn't even know if it required manned assistance.  As Ky worked his way forward he began to understand the function of the devices a bit better.  The raw materials were tempered, and combined with the products of another conveyer belt he discovered further down the room—there were traces of delicate electronics littering its surface.  Once frame and innards were combined, the robot was assembled into a body.

At the end of the process, Ky discovered a dozen recesses in the factory wall, each filled with a completed—though not yet clothed—robotic version of him.  There were wires fed into the sides of their heads and into their limbs, and beside each partitioned chamber was a display of some sort listing complicated arrangements of numbers and letter markings that he found impossible to interpret.  It seemed clear, however, that this was some kind of final stage to their creation.

"It's programming them," Ky murmured under his breath to himself, looking up and down the line.  To his left, a wide mechanical arm was taking the completed robots off the conveyer belt and setting them aside; at least another dozen sat waiting.  "They can make dozens, but they take time to program.  That's why they have a shortage."

He turned back to the robots in front of him, wondering if there was some way to disable the mechanism before they, too, were ready to fight him.  But he was unfamiliar with Zeppian technology, and there seemed to be no easy solution to what he was attempting.  His only choice might be to destroy them.

"Admiring your handywork?"

Ky turned, just in time to see a whirling fireball strike towards him.


	23. Chapter 22

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Thanks again, everyone, for all your support!  Only a few left to go ^^.

**Culmination**

Chapter 22

Testament and Bridget made their way swiftly through the factory halls; Testament stayed in the lead, his magic fending off the attacks of the few armed guards they encountered in continuing up the floors.  They came across the occasional robot as well, which Bridget was proud to have a hand in destroying.  Climbing the stairwell to the fourth floor presented them with the greatest challenge in their advance, as a group of soldiers had collected along the stairs, and were using Zeppian automatic weapons to fire down on them.  The pair took refuge in the second floor doorway.

"I got it," Bridget declared suddenly, and he reached down, fiddling with a latch on his belt so that it released, dropping off his waist with a metallic clang.  He crouched, fastening it back into a circle before hefting it in both hands.

"Hey, wait," Testament started to protest as Bridget moved into the stairwell once more.  "What are you doing?"

"This!"  With a childish growl Bridget swung the heavy mass—it all but leapt from his hands, spinning awkwardly through the air and, amazingly, to the fourth floor landing.  It struck the wall with a hollow reverberation, marking a dent, and then another when it dropped.  The guards spun at the sound of the impact, by then the circle of metal careening down the stairs towards them.  They scrambled to dodge, but the stairs were too narrow to allow much movement, and several of the men were sent tumbling to their knees or over the rail.

Testament, though stunned that Bridget's idea was working, didn't let the opportunity pass him; he charged out of the alcove, long strides taking him swiftly up the stairs to where the guards were struggling to stand and aid their comrades.  With all the confusion he passed easily through them, the blunt end of his scythe's handle knocking each standing man unconscious.  He could hear Bridget just behind, and when he reached the door to the fourth floor he paused to glance back.

Bridget grinned brightly as he tugged his belt back into place.  "How was that?"

Testament smirked.  "Good work."

The pair followed the short hall to a single door, and upon opening it found themselves face to face with half a dozen pale-faced and terrified technicians.

"All of you who don't want to end up like the guards outside should leave," Testament informed them evenly.

The technicians exchanged glances, but in looking at Testament their minds were swiftly made up.  With tiny frightened cries they fled, forsaking coats and files in their escape.  Testament cocked an eye at his young companion.  "How was that?"

Bridget giggled as he hopped to one of the abandoned workstations and took a seat.  "Not bad," he complimented dryly.

Testament rolled his eyes as he followed.

*****

Ky threw himself out of the way of the incoming projectile of magic.  He almost wasn't fast enough, and he could feel the fire's heat licking at the skin of his bare back as he rolled to the side.  It spurred him swiftly into a counterattack of lightning—he wasn't about to let an enemy take him from behind again, and felt a thrill of satisfaction as his attacker was forced to retreat.  The shadowed figure disappeared somewhere among the mess of machinery, and as Ky stood he held his sword carefully ready, alert for when the next onslaught came.

"Heh.  You're not like the robots, are you?"

Ky turned toward the voice, and his heart rose suddenly into his throat when he came to recognize its owner—who was now bearing down on him.  He didn't have a chance to speak.  In his shock he managed only to defend from the sword arching towards him, and the heavy punch that followed caught him perfectly in the stomach.  Ky reeled, a thoughtless swipe of his sword driving the man back long enough for him to retreat several steps.  He gasped weakly after his lost breath.  "Sol—"

"Damn right, darling."  Sol charged again, long before Ky was ready to deflect another attack.  A smug grin flashed briefly across his lips.  Ky lifted Thunderseal, and the impact of their blades sent him skidding backwards until his lower back struck the edge of a computer desk.  Following blind instinct the officer rolled over it—the wood was splintered a second later by a heavy, cleaving strike.  And though he was still gasping Ky managed another burst of lightning, giving him the time he needed to fall back.  He jumped onto the conveyer belt and then behind it, hoping the extra machinery there would give him cover.

"Running now, eh?"  Though another attack didn't come Ky was wary, an arm wrapped around his chest to keep it from heaving as he edged, slowly, around the different metal masses.  "Can't fight without your little robot friends, can you?"

Ky pressed his hand to his mouth to suppress a cough, wincing a little at the taste of blood on his lips.  Carefully he leaned his back against one of the giant metallic arms along the assembly line; a slight turn of his head allowed him to see the other man as he walked the line of the wall, searching.  And he'd thought his mind might be playing tricks on him, until he clearly saw Fireseal clenched in the man's fist.  Sol had found his way here—had attacked him.  His injustice swelled, and he would have charged out to demand an explanation if not for the rising of Sol's voice.

"You in charge of this dump, or what?" Sol called, scraping Fireseal's tip against the floor as he walked.  It made an awful, ear-piecing squeal.  "Or maybe you're another fucked up experiment.  The outfit's all wrong, either way."

Ky bit his lip to keep his gasp from being heard—Sol didn't recognize him.  It was startling, and somehow absurd, but it explained their exchange a moment before; Sol, who should have given Ky the chance to catch his breath as he always did, hadn't relented in his attack.  The hair, the outfit, even the factory's dull lighting, had managed to so far hide Ky's identity.  Moreover, all their enemies resembled him, copied his movements and fighting technique—it wasn't impossible that Sol would mistake him for one.  Just as the Ninth had mistaken him in Rome.  It made Ky's mind spin, wondering if he could possibly appear so different that the man hunting for his life and the man he had fought for years could both be fooled.

There was a sudden clang to his left, and Ky spun—having had enough of his search on the other side, Sol was climbing over the conveyer belt.  He kicked several moving limbs out of his way in the process.  Ky tensed as he pushed away from his support, preparing for another attack.  It came swiftly, as soon as he was spotted; Sol's eyes gleamed as he charged, bringing his sword down in a vertical arch.  Ky braced Thunderseal with both hands as he met the slash.  The collision sent a heavy tremor through him, greater than he had anticipated, and Sol's secondary assault came faster than it normally would have—a kick to Ky's midsection he narrowly avoided.  They broke apart, but then Sol was barreling down on him again, and again Ky blocked and retreated.

This wasn't right.  It wasn't how their fights usually went.  Ky was used to starting with an advantage, fueled by his injustice and determination, which would last until Sol wore him down and brought the battle to an abrupt end.  But Sol was fighting harder now than he normally did, was even enjoying it, judging by the careless smirk in his rough features.  He was using greater effort against a nameless enemy than against the officer that had pursued him in a contest of strength for years, and even then, was even now nowhere near fulfilling his complete potential.

Ky felt his jaw clench, his hand tremble just slightly around his weapon.  He was being toyed with, again.  And if the condescension present in Sol's face now was any indication of how little he thought of this fight, it pained Ky to think of how much less Sol must have thought of him, to not even fight at this level.  This Gear was toying with him.  Had always been toying with him.

The officer planted his feet suddenly, with a low growl sweeping Thunderseal in front of him in an upward slash.  Lightning flashed from the swords tip as it went, its crack echoing in the chamber as the magic shoots leapt at his adversary.  It made Ky's fingertips tingle.  Sol leapt back, blocking the attack against his own sword.

Following the Gear's earlier example Ky leapt at him even before his magic had dissipated.  Their blades met, sparking against each other as their masters contended for leverage.  Ky watched, with satisfaction, as the grin fell gradually from Sol's lips.  "Glad to see you're finally in the fighting spirit," Sol grumbled.

Ky's eyes narrowed.  A powerful leap took him into the air, another burst of magic driving his opponent back.  But before they could engage again he crossed the conveyer once more in search of a moment's peace to think.  This…was wrong.  All he had to do was speak and his identity would be known, ending this foolishness.  Sol was going to figure it out soon anyway, and he had no idea how he would explain himself when that happened.

"Running again?"  Sol gave chase, his Fireseal humming so that the metal around them reflected its gleaming excitement.  Ky gulped despite himself; his own Thunderseal was already replying in kind.

*****

Baiken muttered under her breath as she swept through another group of gun-toting soldiers.  She was doing her best not to kill too many of them—it wasn't always pleasant for her reputation—but they were starting to get annoying, and she didn't give a second thought to when her blade finally caught flesh.  At least after that, the rest of the guards were more willing to back off.

A bit of coaxing convinced one of the men to tell her where the laboratory was; by the time she got there she was just starting to breathe heavily from the long exercise, the right sleeve of her new jacket already shredded from the use of her remaining _anki_.  She couldn't hide a tiny smile as she kicked the door in and heard people scattering with frightened yelps.  But when she at last took in the scene before her that humor quickly faded.  She took a few steps inside, gaze narrowed but alert.  "Get away from him."

Leona Mariot straightened, and though her face was stern she took a single step back from the metal slab that served as her operating table.  Her five assistants did the same with shared looks of fright.  Their retreat allowed Baiken to see the full figure of the men they had been leaning over: Anji, laid bare save for a sheet covering him from the waist down, shackled to the table and covered in any number of tiny needles and apparatuses.  His eyes were gaping wide but they were empty; when Leona turned, Baiken could see the traces of blood on her fingers.

"Get away from him!" Baiken hollered as she stalked quickly forward.  The assistants obediently backed further away, but Leona was unwavering.  As soon as Baiken was in range she grabbed the woman by her collar, hauling her forward.  "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded coarsely, giving her a shake.  "What have you done to him?"

"He's undergone hypnosis," the doctor replied simply, infuriating Baiken more with her careless demeanor.  "In preparation for a procedure."

"I know all about your fucking procedure," Baiken growled, and with a snort she flung Leona to the ground.  Though she must have struck hard she didn't cry out.  Baiken, meanwhile, was already pulling herself up onto the table with Anji, tearing at the equipment covering him.  "Damn scientists," she continued to mutter as she removed a particularly large needle from Anji's forearm.  She pressed her hand against it for a moment to keep it from bleeding.  "How many times do you have to fuck with the world before you're satisfied?"

"This is about restoring order," Leona retorted, slowly dragging herself to her feet.  "I won't expect a Japanese to understand."

Baiken whirled on her.  "Shut up!" she snarled.  "As soon as I get Anji out of here I'm coming back to cut your goddamn head off, got that?"  She turned back to her work.  "Keep it up and I'll think of something less efficient for you."

"You have no idea, do you?" the woman continued anyway, bracing her weight against one of the liquid filled tanks behind her.  "About the war, the Japanese—about your own powers."

"I know how to use them—that's enough for me."

Unseen to Baiken, Leona gestured to her workers; they began to slip, one by one, into an adjoining room.  "You think you do.  And maybe that is good enough for you.  But if that's so, you'll never come to understand why your people were destroyed."

Baiken turned again, slowly this time, gaze sharp as she clicked her sword an inch out of its sheath.  "Maybe I'll be killing you now after all."

"Maybe."  Leona lifted her chin.  "Chipp Zanuff!"

A flash of shadow caught in the corner of Baiken's eye, and she cursed as she twisted to face the incoming assault.  But she had always underestimated Chipp's speed—he sped from a darkened corner of the room, seeming to vanish before her eyes until a moment before he jumped, both feet catching her in the chest.  With a startled cry Baiken was thrown from the table and landed hard on her back.  "Damnit—"  She flipped swiftly to her feet once more, just in time to catch Chipp's arm blade against the hilt of her sword.  His eyes were just as dulled, as oblivious as Anji's, and it made her cringe.  "You…damn bitch…!"

"You two know each other, don't you?" Leona said as she moved back towards Anji, reaching for the needle Baiken had discarded.  "Keep each other busy for a while, so I can finish this for the Doctor."

Baiken snarled; a jerk of her shoulder sent her claw aiming for Chipp's throat, but he feinted back, returning swiftly with a kick to her gut.  She gasped as she was thrown back, and their blades gave off tiny sparks as they clashed in another meeting.  "Damn you!"

"My apologies," Lorena went on as she continued with her preparations.  "But he hates to be kept waiting."

*****

The pair of combatants ducked as sparks showered down on them; a blast of Ky's lightning had caught the overhead lights, striking down the line of fluorescents and exploding bits of glass in all directions.  It caught Ky off guard, as he wasn't used to dealing with delicate electric lighting, and he was startled when the factory was plunged into darkness.  The only illumination now offered was the glow of still functioning computer screens, and the sparse green and red lights covering the length of the conveyer belt.  Sol's form was a blur ahead of him.  

"Smooth, asshole," Sol grumbled.

Ky braced himself, accepting Sol's attack against his sword, but this time he didn't back down.  He knew that Sol had the advantage in the dark, with his Gear's sight, and that he couldn't afford to surrender any leverage.  His Thunderseal was the lighter of their weapons—he managed to twist it about, turning Sol's blade aside so he could lash at his chest.  They broke apart, and met again in the dark.

Their fight was slowly getting out of Ky's hands.  Every clash of metal hardened Ky's expression, swelled heated instinct behind his ribs.  Though his rage was tightly controlled he was aware that now, even with his limited visibility, he was fighting harder and more effectively against Sol than any time in his memory.  The bizarre circumstances behind this duel were straining the reality of their situation from him.  Clad now in unfamiliar attire and surroundings, facing Sol's unbridled aggression, it wasn't hard to imagine that he had become far removed from himself.  This was surreal.  And despite all his earlier anguishes, in this moment he ceased to remember or care that Sol's origins as a Gear had caused him so much pain.  This was Sol—the one man who he had yet to prove himself to.  And this was his opportunity.

Sol's fire careened toward him, lighting their metal battleground in gleaming orange and crimson.  Ky countered with magic of his own, and together the combined heat seared long gashes into the steel of their environment.  To Ky's left a workstation was set aflame, and suddenly exploded not unlike the lights a moment ago.  It was small but just enough to separate the fighters again so they could gather their bearings.

Their battle was only going to grow more fierce.  Ky launched another round of lightning, chasing Sol across the conveyer belt and in the process sending a collection of robotic parts spinning off madly.  The officer was pleased; his task had been to destroy the factory and all its effectiveness, and if they kept up this competition of theirs that would soon be the result.  Still, his conscience was protesting.  He shouldn't have had time to indulge himself here, when his comrades were battling for their lives elsewhere throughout the facility.

Sol came at him faster than he'd expected; he'd pushed against the wall, and was heading for the officer with the intention of a powerful kick.  Ky surprised himself with the swiftness of his own response.  He crouched down, already turning so that by the time Sol had sailed over him he was ready to attack.  Staying low to the ground he charged, a sweep of his blade coming dangerously close to connecting with Sol's ankles.  The Gear leapt back but Ky was again upon him, a leveled thrust aiming for his midsection.

Sol twisted, but it wasn't fast enough.  Ky's eyes widened as he felt his sword catch—it was only a glancing blow, a shallow incision along the bottom of Sol's ribs, but it drew blood.  

Ky's brief victory was short-lived; Sol's fist came down heavily against the side of his head, spilling him onto his face at the base of the conveyer belt.  It sent an ache all through his already worn body but he struggled back to his feet swiftly in case Sol attacked again.  He didn't at first; he was drawing his fingers over his wound, smearing dark blood across his stomach.  Sol's eyes gleamed in the dark.  "Now you're pissing me off."

Ky licked his lips as he stumbled back a step.  His mind was spinning—he'd wounded Sol.  And he had drawn blood from Sol before, it was usually nothing more than skating blow against an arm or shoulder, never something as vital as his torso.  It raised in him a shudder of accomplishment.  Whatever had happened, he was fighting with greater skill than he usually did.  For that tiny instant between them he had been the better man.

When Sol attacked again Ky could tell that he had heightened his game; his smirk was gone, his eyes focused sharply in the dark.  But Ky's confidence had been spurred as well, and he met every sweep of the sword thrown at him.  He couldn't remember having felt this way, so unlike himself and…maybe even free.  This was his chance to fight Sol outside the bounds of all the history they shared, without morality and justice barring his vision.  Testament had been right—he wanted to trust his own instincts, trust himself, and at the moment his heart was telling him that he would never have this opportunity again.

Baiken would be all right on her own.  She could handle Chipp, as she had said.  Bridget was with Testament, and would be able to look after himself.  And Testament…he trusted.  Wanted to trust him so deeply that it made his insides ache when he remembered all the brief moments they had shared, the words of comfort and advice passed between them.  If Testament said he could defeat the Ninth unaided, then Ky would believe him with all confidence.

Which left this battle to him.  Already as they circled he could see the factory's many devices blinking in distress, burned and scarred with the force of too much magic.  If this battle continued any longer, his objective of ruining the reproductive equipment would be completed twice over, as he had assured.  There was no other need for him here, save…this.

Sol came at him again from above, flames licking the length of his blade as it struck towards him.  Ky's reaction was again all but instantaneous; he leapt straight into the air, sword flashing in a smooth arch that parried Sol's blade and, for an instant, drew them into close quarters in mid air.  Both attacked with limbs.  Ky's knee caught Sol firmly in the midsection, drawing more blood, and again Sol's heavy knuckles caught Ky in the chest.  Winded, the pair broke apart and was sent tumbling to the ground.  They struggled desperately to regain their balance.

Sol hissed a curse as he stood, one hand pressed over his stomach.  "What the fuck are you, anyway?" he growled, his eyes glowing brief fire in the darkened factory.

Ky licked his lips and tasted blood as he, too, pushed to his feet.  Sol would figure it out, soon.  But until then he would fight with all his strength.

*****

Bridget hummed idly as he jumped from one console to the next, checking the screens that had been carelessly left open when their owners fled.  He hadn't discovered anything remarkable just yet, and trying to delve deeper confronted him with password screens and red warnings.  "Looks like it's all locked up," he said with dismay, moving to check another computer.  "I can't get in."

Testament frowned, though he had been expecting as much—the Ninth may have been confident enough in his robots that their security system wasn't terribly advanced, but he would never be careless with something as important as his full database.  "Keep trying," he said anyway, moving to the line of tall, thick glass windows that overlooked the entrance of the factory.  "There might be something—a piece of paper, even, that might show if they've been contacting another factory."

"Right."  Bridget nodded, and continued his search.

Testament turned his gaze back to the window, lifting his palm to press against it.  He scanned the courtyard below, but as he had assumed there was no sign of Ky.  A few robots were attempting to stagger to their feet, but as they were severely damaged he gave them little notice.  His mind was already wandering, and in his reprieve was startled by the sound of a distant explosion shaking the floor beneath his feet.  He smirked.  "Sounds like everyone's working hard, at least," he murmured.

"Ah!  Here's something," Bridget suddenly announced.

Testament glanced back at him over his shoulder.  "What is it?"

"Looks like someone might have been looking stuff up about another factory," Bridget reported, leaning close to the screen.  "There's a list of…supplies and stuff, I think—something about a ship heading out of Rome to A-Country."

"Does it say where?"

"I'm still looking."

Testament nodded and turned his attention back to the window.  A brief seal sheered a circular hole in the glass, letting in a breath of dusty mountain air.  A moment later a familiar black raven was gliding toward him, and he held his hand out for her to land upon.  Rael rustled her feathers in irritation.  "I'm sorry," Testament assured with a smile as he pulled her inside.  "I didn't mean to leave you behind."  He lifted her to his shoulder.

No sooner had she perched, however, she suddenly bristled, screeching in warning.  Testament felt the swell of magic a moment later; he reeled, but by then the energy was already surging into the room, nearly blinding him.  His heart skipped.  "Bridget—!"

Rael's talons drew blood from his shoulder as she launched from it.  He felt rather than saw her own burst of magic.  But it was nothing compared to the force she was defending from, and when the light cleared Testament could only watch helplessly and Bridget and Rael were both thrown bodily across the workroom.  The boy gave only a short cry as he struck the wall and slumped unconsciously to the ground, the motionless raven just beside.

Testament ran to them, and was only just in time to defend from another blast of ki magic intended to finish off the pair; his seal kept the attack at bay long enough for its power to burn out, darkening the room once more.  In that lull he turned his attention to the fallen pair.  "Bridget?"  

But the boy didn't respond, even when shaken; he was out cold.  With eyes narrowed Testament lifted his head, crouched protectively in front of the wounded as he watched the room's entrance for their enemy.  "Show yourself!"

The Ninth came in slowly, clad again in the red and white uniform of the Holy Order he had adorned in the Rome.  His expression was eerily calm, and the soft resonation of his boots against the metal floor sent through the Gear a familiar tremor.

"I thought you'd end up here eventually," the Ninth said evenly, taking a few steps forward, "but not this soon."

Testament's jaw clenched as he stood, his scythe materializing obediently in his closed palm.  "I'm going to kill you," he retorted lowly.  "Like I took care of the eight before you."

"You can try."

The pair brandished weapons, and charged at each other just as a pale moon began to rise behind plated glass.


	24. Chapter 23

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Wah!  I really do have a thing for cliffhangers.  Sorry ^^;;

**Culmination**

Chapter 23

The factory was by now bathed in night, its courtyard a silent gravesite of dozens of strewn robots.  The building itself, however, appeared far less than peaceful.  Though the last of the guards had fled a short time ago, explosions could be heard echoing from different places up and down the structure, and flashes of light sparked continuously from the wide glass windows on the uppermost floor.  Perched lightly on the top of the six meter high wall were a pair of dark figures, watching intently the indications of continued battle.  One was a woman, here eyes soft as her gaze wandered from the windows to the man at her side.  She cocked her head to the side curiously.

The man chuckled quietly; his hand slid up the line of her back, which made her smile.  "Not yet, my dear," he said easily as he continued to caress her spine.  "I think I'd like to watch, just a bit longer."

*****

Though the pair had not crossed blades in over fifty years, they met each other as if fresh, each strike as deliberate and hateful as any they'd shared.  Their grudge was not a personal one—to Testament, the Ninth was nothing more than another extension of the Bureau he despised, and to the Ninth this Gear merely one of the many obstacles that had stood before him.  Despite this they challenged each other with all their resentment, so that each clash of their weapons rang clearly in the confined room, echoing with the growls of frustration each emitted whenever they failed to draw blood.

The Ninth's skill came not only from this strength, but his flexibility.  Because his joints had been refined to efficient machinery during his transformation decades ago he was able to move with greater precision than his opponent, enabling him to hold odd positions when he dodged and attacked.  His balance was impeccable.  And though in a test of brutality he may not have been the victor, with his speed to add to his already toned and able body he made little effort in escaping the curved scythe.

Testament snarled, unleashing a bout of powerful magic to drive his enemy back.  He was struggling for control; if he was to win this match he could not let himself be drawn into thoughtless aggression and vengeance.  But he couldn't help that their battleground was having an effect on him.  Every sound echoed hollowly in the metal room, reminding him too much of the only other backdrop their fight had ever taken place before, until even the pound of his heart sounded as if it were being thrown back to him.

"Familiar, isn't it?" the Ninth muttered, kicking a desk over so that it spilled its computer and papers all about the floor.  He stepped over it, bits of glass from the monitor snapping under his heel.  "Fighting in this tiny, steel room.  I remember it very well."  

Testament circled the man warily, scythe clutched in both hands as he tried to anticipate what kind of attack would come next.  "You think that really matters now?" he retorted.

"I think it does a great deal."  The Ninth leapt at him, and their blades met, struggling against each other just in front of their hardened faces.  Both braced their hands in an attempt to overpower the other.  "Because I think you remember it just as well as I do," the Ninth continued as they struggled.  "Do you want to know what I remember?"

"No."  Testament twisted his scythe, attempting to catch the Ninth with its handle, but he anticipated the movement—the Ninth caught the wood against his palm, directing it away from his body before ramming the weapon back at its owner.  Testament gasped weakly as the skull adornment on its upper edge was forced roughly into his gut and threw him back against the wall.

The Ninth leapt back, landing easily on another desk as he allowed his opponent to regain his breath.  "I remember," he went on anyway, "finding you and the others after the tests were finished for the day.  Locked in your tiny cells, drugged, naked, filthy."

"Shut up," Testament hissed weakly, pawing at the wall to help him regain his balance.

"I remember the scientists trying to question you.  'How is it?' they would ask.  'Do you feel like you're dying yet?'"

Testament shook his head, hair sticking to his neck and face as he began to sweat.  Those words were seeping through him.  "Shut up."

"But all you could do was scream."  Dark eyes narrowed.  "Ranting like a mad animal…."

"Shut up!"

Testament charged, a sudden kick forcing the table out from under the man.  The Ninth leapt clear before he could be thrown and returned with an attack of his own, sword arching only to be caught again on the scythe.  This time they didn't stay there for long.  Testament twisted the handle of his weapon, using the leverage of its longer grip to force the Ninth's sword down.  With his enemy laid open he struck with a nameless blast of magic.  Satisfaction curled in his stomach as he watched the Ninth being thrown back, his skull striking the wall.

The Ninth wilted, but only a moment—a hand against a nearby station steadied him enough to fix Testament with a cold glare.  "You're a goddamned animal," he growled, righting himself.  "A miserable waste of existence.  You should all be destroyed!"

"And you," Testament countered, his palm already glowing in preparation of another spell, "are the Bureau's puppet.  Why are they doing this?"  He started closer, but the Ninth retreated, putting another desk between them.  "What is their purpose?"

"So you haven't quite figured it all out yet."  The Ninth raised his hand, launching a swift, concentrated ball of magic at the Gear, who was already fully prepared to counter.  Their energies collided and diffused against each other.  "Hmph.  You surprise me."

"Tell me what this really is," Testament insisted, his voice rising impatiently.  "Are you really trying to turn Japanese into robots?  Like you?"

The Ninth's eyes narrowed just slightly, but that was the only indication of surprise or anger he gave.  "Yes," he replied shortly.  "Just like me."

He turned suddenly, aiming his next burst of magic towards Testament's companions, still lying prone against the opposite wall.  Testament unleashed his own summons in an attempt to halt the assault; a red beast rose from the ground, jaws gaping, and the impact of ki scattered its remains until they at last disintegrated.

"The procedure is difficult, but simple," the Ninth drawled on.  "The bones are mutated, giving them greater strength and endurance.  The blood is replaced with billions of tiny nanomachines—much more effective than normal cells when it comes to transporting oxygen among organs.  Those who undergo the change are made stronger, more efficient."  He tilted his head to the side as they went back to circling each other.  "Mito Anji is undergoing the procedure now.  I wonder if it will succeed."

Testament took in a slow breath, but there was nothing he could do—he would have to trust that Baiken would reach him first.  "What will happen to him?" he asked, hoping to keep the man talking a bit longer so he could catch his breath.

"With any ritual of Forbidden Magic it requires a sacrifice, and a great deal of energy."  The Ninth tilted his head up.  "It must be performed correctly or the sacrifice will be taken without the completion of the transformation.  Such an instance would mean death."

"What is it?"  Testament's pulse began to rise; he could almost feel the Ninth's energy begin to amass itself.  "What did you sacrifice, to complete the ritual?"

The Ninth stared back at him, his face oddly serene.  "My beating heart."

His ki again flooded the room, turning their battlefield into a wash of brilliant light against Testament's eyes.

*****

Baiken soon found herself beginning to gasp for breath—she had always known Chipp's speed to be faster than her own, but that wouldn't have been a problem if not for the fact that she was doing her best not to seriously injure him.  Her sword had cut a shallow wound across his left thigh, and his arm-blade a similar laceration across her clavicles, but other than that neither had sustained much damage.  She could defend from him for a while yet, but she was doing little more than stalling at this point.  Time she couldn't afford.

"You probably have no idea, do you?" Leona was continuing as she adjusted the equipment around the captive Anji.  "Why your people were slaughtered.  Why they're being kept alive."

"As if I'd listen to you," Baiken snarled.  She lifted her sword to block another of Chipp's quick attacks, and ducked under a high kick.  She managed to thrust her heel into his gut but it wasn't enough; after only a brief falter Chipp returned with a heavy punch that caught her in the shoulder, spinning her about so that her breath was stolen in the impact of body to computer table.

Leona glanced at her only briefly before returning to her work.  "When magic was first discovered, a lot of attention was paid to the Japanese," she went on.  "They had been passing on ki for generations, and yet not even the new understanding of magic could unleash its secrets.  Dozens of scientists devoted themselves to its study.  Including the man who created the Gears."

Baiken flinched.  Despite her strict attention to her advancing opponent, she could help but listen, even if it made her skin crawl.  "That was over a hundred years ago," she retorted.  "You don't know what you're talking about."

But Leona didn't act as if she'd heard.  "It soon became clear that men could not reproduce ki artificially; it required will and emotion.  Because of these unique properties, it also meant that ki had incredible destructive power.  Greater than any weapon man had ever created.  If such power were ever to be developed, the entire island of Japan would become a breeding site for biological weapons."

"You bitch—"  Baiken's anger got the better of her, and when Chipp came at her again her claw struck, digging into his shoulder.  It was strange, and eerie, to see no look of pain cross his features even as his blood splattered.  A jerk of her body sent the man reeling, crashing into another slab-like table further down the room.  Even hypnotized the breath was struck from him; he gasped, clinging to the metal to remain upright.

Baiken, meanwhile, wasted no time in stalking towards Leona and Anji.  "How dare you talk about our people that way," she growled, grabbing Leona harshly by the arm and drawing her back so their gazes could meet.  "Biological weapons?  Is that all we are to you?"

"Possibly the most destructive biological weapons man has ever known," Leona replied smoothly.  "Aren't you glad to hear that?"

Baiken scowled, releasing her so she could lift her sword once more—this woman was going to end here.  But Leona's hand came up suddenly in front of her.  When she realized what was happening, it was too late; a blast of ki caught her full in the face, momentarily blinding her as she stumbled back, and soon after the woman's heel jabbed into her gut.  Hissing curses she launched her metallic claw blindly forward and cringed when it clashed against metal.  Chipp was back, adding his own blast of ki that sent Baiken tumbling weakly to the floor.

"A Japanese is a weapon," Leona declared somewhere overhead.  "A dangerous, uncontrollable force.  One man recognized this, and plotted for their destruction and containment.  The rest of the world even helped him—encouraged him.  The Japanese were not to be left free."

Baiken struggled to her feet, shaking hatefully as her grip spasmed around her katana's handle.  "That's…you goddamned monsters…!"

"That's why the Gears were made—to kill Japanese.  And even now, why they're being contained away from all other life.  We're still studying them.  And someday, we'll fully understand the power that man tried to destroy with his abominations."  Leona returned to the table, climbing up onto it as Baiken had done earlier.  She pressed her palm flat against Anji's breast.  His body began to tremble beneath her.  "Until then, you are all our test subjects."

*****

Testament shielded his eyes from the light as he fell back, lighting his own magic seals around himself, Bridget and Rael.  He could hear desks overturning, computer's shattering, and somewhere amidst the commotion a man's swift footsteps.  He tossed his scythe blindly in front of him, a spell sending it into a mad spin to drive off his approaching opponent.  But metal struck his blade, diverting it, and Testament gasped sharply as a sword tip found his uncovered stomach.  It had penetrated his flesh several inches before he was able to lash out with his foot—his boot smashed against the Ninth's knuckles, forcing him to relinquish his weapon as he retreated with a tiny yelp of his own.

The light in the room faded once more, and Testament grimaced as he reached down, yanking the sword from his stomach.  Warm blood spilled over his navel but a moment later the wound had sealed itself; he leaned back against the wall to catch his breath.

The Ninth, meanwhile, was curling his fingers, cracking the joints back into place.  He lifted Testament's scythe from the ground.  "This…is going to take some time, it seems."

Testament glared at him through locks of sweat-dampened hair.  "You couldn't kill me back then," he retorted stiffly.  "I don't see how you think you can do it now."

The Ninth's eyes narrowed on him, and he hefted his enemy's weapon, stalking forward once more.  "I could say the same to you," he hissed in reply.  "You're just as pathetic as I last saw you."

He charged, but Testament was ready; his scythe obeyed only him, and with a twitch of his hand the weapon leapt from the Ninth's grip and back to his master's.  The Ninth tried to backpedal, but now Testament was bearing down on him with a blade in each hand, both arching forward.  He sidestepped the scythe, but the sword he caught in his open palm, uncaring as his flesh was torn.  A firm jerk wrenched his sword back into his possession, allowing them to meet properly once more.  They then fell back, gauging each other.

"There's another factory, isn't there?" Testament muttered, his attention unwavering.  "In A-Country.  How many more are there?"

The Ninth scoffed.  "Why do you care?  You're not leaving here alive."

"Call it idle curiosity."

"Nice try."

The pair met again.  They were beginning to tire after all the expenditure of magic, the tremors that ran up their limbs whenever blades clashed.  It showed clearly in their faces, their shifting grips and trembling muscles.  Testament felt his boots slip slightly across the floor, and rather than lose his leverage jumped lightly over his opponent.  The Ninth turned just fast enough to meet him again.

Testament's eyes thinned.  "There's something else to this project," he said lowly, grip straining.  "What are you really after?"

The Ninth's expression hardened, and a sudden rush of strength gave him the power he needed to force Testament back.  His sword caught flesh again, a scraping wound against his ribs, but it, too, was swiftly mended.  "Any army.  What else would the Bureau be interested in?"

"Not all Japanese can use ki very well."  Testament swung his scythe low, catching the Ninth in the shins—by the time he'd leapt back the gashes were already healing.  "Even if you converted the entire Japanese population, it wouldn't do you any good if they can't control their own power."

"You seem to know something about the nature of ki.  I'm so proud of you."  The Ninth attacked again with magic, and was once more repelled.  Their battle was wearing down; they weren't getting anywhere like this.  "You're right.  That's why the project has yet to reach its final stage."

He charged, locking blades and glares as they struggled against each other.  "Changing the Japanese is only the first step," the Ninth said lowly, shifting his grip.  "As soon as we understand the outcome of the ritual—the bodies of those like me—we'll be able to work the process in reverse."

"In reverse?"

"Creating ki-using fighters from robots."  The Ninth's eyes flashed.  "Grafting the necessary organs and tissues to a preexisting robotic frame.  We can create our robots by the dozens—we can recreate human flesh with Japanese DNA as easily as we can make Gears.  Combined, our army will be without flaw!  Hundreds of indestructible robot bodies bearing human form and flesh, wielding a power greater than any Gear.  And then…."

The Ninth shifted his grip, and gradually he began to push Testament back.  "And then, the last threat of Gears on this world will be gone forever.  Including you."

"I'm not going anywhere."  Testament feinted back a step, taking the Ninth off balance, driving the handle of his scythe into the back of his skull.  He felt a thrill of satisfaction as the man was sent reeling.

*****

Sol had suspected all along that there was something wrong with this fight.  In the beginning he had passed it off as his imagination—he had fought dozens of enemies already with the likeness and movement of his former "captain," and reasoned that there was nothing suspicious in finding an even better replica here in their home base.  It was just when he was beginning to wonder again when he felt his flesh tear.  Though the wound was not serious, it had started his mind whirling again.  Ky didn't fight like this.  He was driven, strong, and precise, of course, but never this…clear, this undistracted, and Sol couldn't remember having to fight this hard for some time.

Their battleground wasn't helping, either.  The stranger's electricity was conducted by every plate of metal in the floor, walls, and machinery around them, and despite the thickness of his boot soles he wasn't careless enough to stay grounded for very long whenever the sword flashed.  That sword, so familiar to him already….

Equipment exploded off to the side, and the man didn't flinch, inciting Sol's suspicion further; if this were the head of these experiments, or even one of them itself, it should have known better than to destroy the very machinery that this place depended on.  The factory was by now in ruins.  It might have been that the creation was merely irrational—it had not yet spoken a word other than his name, early in their battle—but he found it unsettling.

Another bout of lightning streaked toward him, and Sol countered it with his own magic; the two energies mixed, causing yet another explosion that blew the supply door clearly off its tracks and into the courtyard.  Sol took the opportunity to run for it—if they could continue outside, at least he wouldn't be at a disadvantage anymore.  He could hear the man following swiftly at his heels as they left the building, amidst the scattered remains of dozens of fallen robots.  Sol glared at them with irritation—the husks of the robots would probably conduct the electricity as well as the factory.

Where the bodies had come from was a mystery to him as well; having approached the factory from his own cut path in the rear, he hadn't realized others had assaulted the building before him.  Now it was clear that someone else had taken it upon themselves to deal with the Bureau's latest project and, most likely, that this man he was fighting now was not his enemy.  "Hey.  Hold on a—"

Before he'd even finished the black-clad man was upon him, hopping lightly off the debris with sword brandished.  Sol hissed a curse, dodging back several steps, and at last planted his weight.  "I said hold on!"

Sol twisted, catching the man with a high kick; his heel impacted squarely in his stomach and sent him all but flying backwards.  He landed with a weak cry and a thud amidst the robots.  That rising of voice, however brief and slight, was enough to make Sol pause again, and this time instead of charging in once more he waited, allowing the man to catch his breath.

The younger man struggled only to his knees, an arm wrapped around his midsection as he gasped weakly.  His eyes were piercing and deep as they watched Sol several meters away.  It was a familiar gaze, a familiar accusation buried in his pained visage.

Before he could gather his thoughts the man charged again, having recovered from the blow far more quickly than Sol had anticipated.  He leapt, sword raised and flashing.  Sol lifted his weapon to defend from the attack, but just before they met he saw a glint of light off a piece of metal against the man's chest—a silver cross necklace.

They hit hard; Sol took the man's full weight against his chest, and his back struck against unyielding earth.  The bare skin on the back of his arms and neck complained with angry scrapes as they skidded across the ground and finally halted.  Sol lifted his eyes.  His opponent had him pinned, one knee digging into his chest and a hand tight around his throat, the tip of his sword pressing into his left breast.  They were both breathing hard, gazes locked and limbs still.  Sol remained motionless, watching the face above him, the lines of tension in his forehead and jaw and the intensity buried in his tinted irises.  A quick glance at the silver cross dangling between them removed any doubt.  He was a fool, and later, he would laugh.  "Ky…?"

****

Ky's breath stopped, his grip clenching around his sword.  For a long moment the pair could only stare at each other.  He had known it would happen eventually, but faced with Sol's realization now he was at a loss.  There was no explanation for his self-indulgent foolishness, and he was still drawn too taut, too filled with adrenaline and pride to listen to Sol's berating.

The fight was over.  As suddenly as that, Sol would turn his back, leaving this battle behind them with no care of the significance it held for the younger officer.  He had allowed him even the victory of this pin, he knew that for certain.  As soon as his identity as Ky Kiske had been known, this battle they had already devoted so much strength into ceased to be worth Sol Badguy's time.  Even knowing Ky's sacrifices of comrades and mission, that Ky had been able to fight harder, more effectively than in any duel between them, Sol would not care.  Ky Kiske simply wasn't worth the effort, no matter what his skill or devotion.

"What the fuck to do you think you're doing?" Sol grunted, glaring at him.

Ky's expression hardened, trembling with barely controlled frustration.  He had been a fool to think that Sol would ever acknowledge him.  Faced with him now, feeling the sweat evaporate from his weary limbs, he finally felt that he realized how little he must have meant to this man—that even after so desperate a battle, he could look the other way without a second thought to any of it.  Such was the uncaring arrogance of a Gear.

"You hear me, Kiske?  Get the hell off me already."

Sol's hand curled around his wrist, trying to remove it from his throat.  The sudden touch made Ky gasp; as soon as Sol was free, everything would be over.  Without thinking Ky's hands tightened, keeping Sol pinned as he thrust Thunderseal into his chest.

*****

Sol hadn't been expecting the attack—he had been so sure that his opponent was Ky that by the time he realized the sword was heading toward him he could already feel it splitting his flesh.  His body reacted without him, forcing his knee up against Ky's hip to throw him over his head.  But by then the blade had already cut into skin, and as Ky was tossed it dragged through him, carving a long gash up his chest to his shoulder.  His voice lifted in a pained and startled cry as he rolled onto his knees to face his assailant.  "You…what the fuck—?"  

Fireseal dropped from his grasp as he covered the wound; hot blood pulsed against his palm and spilled thickly down his torso.  It was deep, dangerously close to his heart, and already the coppery taste was welling in his throat.  He coughed hoarsely—it spilled onto his lips.  "Ky…?"

The man was just now pushing to his feet, grip tight and trembling around his sword.  He wasn't yet facing Sol.  The Gear hissed another curse under his breath.  "Damnit, Ky, what the hell is wrong with you!"

*****

Ky felt a shudder run through him.  He was watching the tip of his sword, the Gear's blood that was sliding down its blade.  Gear's blood…had always appeared thicker to him.  Whether or not it truly was he would never know for certain, but it seemed so.  In the dead of night it even looked black.  For a moment he was caught in the sight of it, in the knowledge that this was Sol's blood he had taken.

Even now, wounded and betrayed, Sol would not fight him seriously.  Ky knew better, now, than to imagine that he ever would.  But there was one thing in their world that Sol had never yielded to, and would fight with the full extent of his power.  If he were to convince the Gear to face him at his best—here, in the last opportunity left to him—he would have to become nothing less than the enemy Sol had pursued all his life.  At least, in Sol's eyes, he would.  This would be his final gamble.  

The officer took in a deep breath, his lips forming words that reached no further than his own ears.  "I'm sorry, Testament.  For being this selfish."

Ky tightened his grip around Thunderseal's handle.  The sword flashed obediently, only for a brief moment, allowing him to collect a small amount of magic in his open palm; a tiny ball of light not unlike the concentrated mag-lights that Ky had so often manipulated as a child, hidden from Sol's view.  Slowly he lifted his hand, passing it over his forehead and through his hair as he had done many times before.  It took a slight manipulation of energy, delicate work such as only Ky could have done, to form the channels of light into a small group of sharp lines against his forehead in a familiar symbol.

Ky lowered his hand, turning to face Sol with eyes narrowed.  He felt only a slight satisfaction as Sol's eyes widened on the gleaming markings adorning his brow.  His own eyes narrowed.

"Sol," Ky said firmly, conveying in that moment just how serious he was.  "If you hold back against me now, I will kill you."


	25. Chapter 24

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

Notes:  I forgot to say it before, but as far as I know nothing out of Leona's mouth in the last chapter is true to canon.  I made it up ^^.

Thanks again for all your support!  I know you're probably all thinking, "OMGKYWTFBBQ!!!!!211!111" but.I hope you're liking it anyway.  *heehee!*

Not much left to go!  

**Culmination**

Chapter 24

Bridget groaned softly as he was dragged once more into awareness-slowly and painfully, encouraging him to keep his eyes pressed shut for as long as he was allowed.  It was the sounds of ringing battle that coaxed him to ignore that instinct, and he winced when the first vision of his reclaimed sight was that of brilliant, flashing magic.  With another weak murmur he pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his throbbing skull.  His entire body was aching from the impact he could only barely remember; he had to wonder if this was how Ky had felt after his original run-in with the Ninth.

Gradually, the boy's gaze was drawn back into clear focus, granting him at last a view of the swirling combatants.  Each was bloodied, gasping for breath as they launched themselves again and again at each other.  The sharp percussion of their weapons resounded in the small space and made Bridget's ears ring.

"Testament.."  Carefully, Bridget began to push to his feet.

*****

Sol could not believe what he was seeing.  His every instinct rebelled against it, refusing to connect the image to sense.  Ky was standing before him, his neck and chest awash with the blood from Sol's injured chest, brow illuminated by the series of delicate lines that had been previously obscured by hanging bangs.  At least.they had to have been.  Sol would have noticed that before.  Something like that..

"Ky.."  Sol shook his head.  "What.is going on here?"  He grimaced as he pressed his hand more tightly to his wound, trying to slow the flow of blood.  He had already spent so much of his magic in this fight that his body was slow to respond, especially to an injury of this depth.  "Are you fucking Ky or not?"

Ky continued to stare back at him, face unmoved and posture straight.  It was eerie; with the light of the moon haloing his features Sol could clearly make out the man's face, the intensity he had always known and damned himself for not recognizing sooner.  And yet it also.looked nothing like Ky.  The outfit, the strangely-colored sword, the unwavering malice in his eyes and attention-the mark of a Gear Sol's own eyes were drawn continuously back to.  Something was very wrong here.

"I want you to fight me," he said evenly, and again though the voice was unmistakably Ky's, Sol had never heard it quite so cold.  "With all your strength."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sol grunted, though his gaze flickered briefly to his dropped Fireseal, just beyond his reach.  "Just tell me what the hell is going on here."

"I want you to fight me with all your strength," Ky repeated, "or I will kill you."

"Don't fuck with me!"  Losing his patience, Sol began to push to his feet.  "This isn't funny, Ky!  Tell me what-"

But by then Ky was already upon him.

*****

 Anji gasped suddenly, drawing Baiken's attention for a second-more than enough time for Chipp to connect another pummeling kick to her midsection.  This time she didn't even cry out as she was thrown into the far wall.  Blood was beginning to trickle down the back of her skull.  But Chipp was worse off-her claw had made a mess of his shoulder, and blood was flowing thickly down his arm and chest.  In his hypnotized state he didn't seem to notice, but soon his body would reach its limit, and he was sure to collapse.  If she could merely wait that long, it would be over.  She should have stayed where she was and stalled for time.  It was the lifting of Anji's voice nearby that spurred her to her feet.

He was screaming-his voice had risen so gradually that for a moment she hadn't been able to distinguish it from the ringing in her skull after so many impacts.  When she looked, the Japanese man was shuddering on the table beneath Leona's hands, his eyes still glazed and head thrown back.  She had never heard his voice lift in such a way, and it sent ripples up and down her skin beneath the layer of cold sweat already covering her.  "Anji.."  She staggered forward.  "You.stop it."

Leona didn't lift her head, and before Baiken could get close enough Chipp was again barring her way.  She growled in frustration.  "Get away from him," she hissed to the woman, "or I'll kill you both."

Leona snorted quietly.  "No."

"_Get the fuck away from him!_"

Baiken twisted her body sharply, her claw shooting towards the albino man and digging again into his shoulder.  With all her strength she turned, her voice spilling in a wrathful cry as she dragged Chipp clear off his feet in a spinning arch.  The wound across her collar split and sent fresh blood spilling between her breasts.  She didn't care, screaming madly as she flung Chipp bodily into Leona and sent them both crashing to the metal floor.

Anji trailed off in a whimper, his body growing limp against the table.  Panting, Baiken started toward him.  She only made it a few steps when there was a sudden tug on her shoulder; Chipp was climbing upright once more, arm twisted around the length of her iron chain.  Baiken had just enough time to jump, clearing her of Anji's table between them, before Chipp planted his weight and pulled-she was dragged through the air just as he had been a moment before, and could only yelp weakly as she struck wall yet again.  But as she slumped she realized that the metal had given way beneath her impact far more easily than it should have, and a moment later she found herself being rained upon by several heavy objects that had fallen out of the destroyed cabinet.

"Damnit.."  Chipp was stalking towards her again, his eyes still empty, and Baiken was just resigning herself to the reality that she would have to kill him when her knuckles brushed a length of polished wood.  She dropped her gaze and could have laughed.  "Anji.I guess this makes us even."

Chipp ran at her; her hand snatched up the fallen Zessen, and with a sweep of her arm she sent a wave of powerful magic screaming towards him.  The wind howled in the confines of the lab as it spun and curled, lifting Chipp easily into the air.  Equipment was toppled, bits of glass tossed madly about-Baiken could feel the wind's pull against her clothes and open wounds, making her cringe.  And suddenly, it was gone.  Baiken didn't look, but she heard Chipp's body drop to the ground with a sickening thud.  Breathing hard, for several long moments she dared not move or lift her gaze.  If that hadn't ended it, she wasn't sure how much more she could offer.

Nearly a full minute passed, and when Baiken finally convinced herself to look the room was still.  Chipp was clear at the other end of the laboratory on his stomach; there was blood seeping from his nose and lip but he seemed to be breathing.  Relieved, she then looked for the doctor.  Leona was trying to pull herself upright several feet away, battered but still desperately determined to reach Anji once more.

Baiken stood, retrieving her sword as she stumbled toward her.  "You mind holding still a minute?"

Leona turned, and was met with Baiken's heel in her jaw.  She cried softly as she crumbled once more to the floor, and was there pinned by Baiken's heavy boot against her stomach.  Wincing, she lifted her gaze.  "You bitch."

Baiken watched her, still regaining her breath.  "You used ki on me," she stated evenly.  "Someone like you hasn't trained.  Which means there's Japanese blood in you, somewhere."

Despite her defeat, Leona Mariot glared back at her with strict vehemence.  "And.?"

"So why?"  Baiken's eyes narrowed spitefully.  "To your own people?"

"Because.."  Leona closed her eyes, tilting her head back as if already knowing what end her words would bring her.  She was without regret.  "Because that man is my father."

Baiken was still for a long time, unmoving, feeling the blood slide over her skin and mix with her sweat.  The room was silent.  And then she slit the woman's throat.

*****

"You're the last one, you know," the Ninth hissed as he stumbled backwards, running into overturned desks as he retreated from the advancing Testament.  "The rest of them were killed years ago.  _I_ killed them!  I was not ineffective!"

"Then there's no reason you should flee," Testament replied darkly.  He passed a hand over his stomach, erasing the shallow gash that the Ninth had managed to scrape across his skin.  "I've wasted enough time with you.  Let's end this."

He charged, and the Ninth retreated again-he was breathing hard, and when Testament's scythe ripped a long wound down his arm it didn't heal as quickly as it should have.  His movements were losing their precision, their speed.  When their blades met, his arm trembled.

"You're falling apart, Arthur," Testament warned, forcing him back.

The Ninth stumbled, his footing slipping a moment before he could right himself.  "You'll.all be destroyed.  You don't understand!"  His hand flashed, sending an electric charge along the length of his blade for when he and Testament met again.  The Gear barely flinched, even as the magic burned his fingers.  "He'll come back, with his Gears.  The Crusades will come again!  You'll only be used by him again, you pathetic-"

"Shut up!"

Testament swung at him again, and the pair exchanged several blows.  In the flurry of movement the Ninth managed to twist his sword about, gathering one last burst of speed in his aching limbs.  The handle of his sword smashed brutally against the side of Testament's head and sent him reeling.  Gasping, Testament managed to catch himself against the wall and keep from dropping to his knees.  He lifted gleaming, crimson eyes to his enemy.  And smirked.  "Is that all you have left?"

"I'll kill you!" the Ninth raged, falling back as his face contorted madly.  "All of you-all the Gears!"  Testament charged at him, and he lifted his hand, drawing to him the last of his ki.  "Damn you all!  You should have never-"

The Ninth never had the chance to unleash his final attack; a thick circle of heavy iron struck his outstretched hand, distracting him from his spell as his steel knuckles were snapped beneath the crushing impact.  He couldn't even cry out, as by then his enemy was just before him, a blaze of red and black as a blade cleaved into his chest.

Testament's eyes narrowed as he felt the resonance of his strike run the length of his arms, followed by a wash of hot blood over tight fingers.  The Ninth's dark eyes were wide in disbelief as they stood, suspended together.  All at once blood spilled over the man's lips, and as he began to fall his hands scraped against Testament's shoulders and chest.  "No.."  His legs folded, the dropping of his weight drawing Testament's scythe higher up his chest and raising a thick gurgle in his throat.  Shaking, he clawed at the blade embedded in his heart.  "No.."

The scythe vanished, and its master took a slight step back as then Ninth finally crumpled to the ground.  He shuddered face down against the metal floor for only a moment longer before jerking suddenly and then falling silent.  Dark, oily blood seeped out from under the body.

Testament stared down at him for a long time, and gradually his breath began to return to normal.  But he couldn't take his eyes from the slumped and quiet figure, how still he appeared especially in death.  It was eerie, and somehow mystifying to have to see him this way.  It was pathetic.  He wasn't as pleased as he imagined he should have been, but he was.relieved.  When he took a fresh breath, it came to him easily.

"Testament.?"  Bridget limped over, and arm wrapped around his bruised ribs as he watched the Gear with concern.  "Are you okay?"

Testament lifted his head, blinking as if having awoken from deep slumber.  He was bloodied and exhausted, but he was still able to answer, "Yes, I'm all right."

Bridget's features broke in a relieved grin, and he trotted over to throw his arms around Testament.  "I'm glad," he said happily, leaning against him.  "Thank goodness."

Testament smiled slightly as he urged the boy back-he was getting the Ninth's blood on him.  "What about you?" he asked with concern, and when he glanced up he saw Rael beating her wings experimentally.  "I'm sorry-I wasn't able to-"

"It's all right," Bridget assured.  "I'm okay.  Just a little knocked around."  He smiled to show he was all right, but then he paused, glancing around the ruined room.  "You totaled everything."

Testament blinked and looked for himself.  "Yes.we did."  He sighed.  "I suppose that means we won't be getting any more information out of these things."

"Oh well.  We know there's another factory in A-Country, right?"  Bridget squatted down, retrieving his yo-yo.  "We've done enough-someone else can run the cleanup."

"Yes, you're right."  Testament offered Bridget a hand in standing once more.  "And thank you," he added sincerely.  "For helping me, just now."

Bridget blushed.  "You're welcome."  Rael swooped forward to land on his shoulder, and he giggled, giving her a pat on the head.  "And thank you, for protecting me," he told the raven gratefully.  She squawked in reply.  "Now let's get out of here, huh?  We should try to find Ky and Baiken."

"Yes."  Now that the battle had ended Testament's senses were free, and he could feel a surge of familiar magic burning in the distance.  Somewhere, Ky was still fighting.  "Yes, let's hurry."

*****

Sol stumbled backwards over another pile of destroyed robots, a string of curses falling from his lips.  As Ky pursued he rolled, and though the movement ripped free what little of his wound had managed to close he was able to retrieve his sword.  A blaze of fire kept Ky away from him long enough to regain his balance and a few gulps of air.

This was madness, as far as Sol was concerned.  No matter what explanation his mind tried to fit to this battle none of them seemed even remotely plausible.  Either this really was Ky and he'd gone mad, or it was a remarkable likeness of nearly perfect detail.  His style was flawless, his intensity unwavering, but.Ky had never fought like this.   The strength and precision in him now seemed to corroborate the paths of light crossing his forehead in the mark of a Gear.  But then, Ky had always been stronger than most Gears, anyway..

"I don't want to fight you," Sol tried reasoning with him as their blades locked.  He grimaced as his shoulder complained against the strength being forced into it.

"If you don't-" Ky started to reply.

"Yeah I know-you'll kill me."

His careless response was quickly punished; Ky shifted his weight, using his greater flexibility to twist and plant the toe of his boot directly into Sol's open wound.  He cried raggedly as he felt the sole scrape bone, and retreated again-his throbbing pulse momentarily blocked his senses.  "Fuck."

"Fight me!" Ky shouted at him, the first tainting of real anger showing through his voice.  That, at least, sounded much more like the officer he knew.  "I'm not playing with you, Sol-this isn't a game to me!"

"I should hope not," Sol growled in reply, "when you carve a hole in my fucking chest."

Ky swung Thunderseal in another round of released magic, and Sol was hard pressed to defend from the attack with his own weapon.  His expression hardened; Ky was right, at least, he was forced to admit as he felt the fingers of his left hand growing numb from blood loss.  Scowling, he couldn't help but think that if he'd know Ky was this powerful before, he might not have teased him so much when he was younger.

Sol grunted ironically as he shook his hand to try and get feeling back into it.  "I've created a goddamn monster."

Ky's eyes sharpened on him, his posture growing more erect.  "If I am a monster," he replied steely, "then it is only by my choice, not yours."

His words caused Sol to hesitate again, a strange chill running the length of his spine.  His own remark had been meant in jest, but its reply sounded far too serious for his liking.  "What.the hell are you talking about now?"

Ky lifted his sword before him, a few sparks of lightning skating up and down its surface.  "I finally came to understand what you are, Sol Badguy," he declared.  "A beast, outside the reach of order.  If the only way to defeat such a creature is to become one, then so be it."

Sol's eyes widened, dancing from the gleaming sword to the marks that even now were glowing more brilliant against Ky's visage.  The mark of a Gear, of the hundreds of abominations he had slaughtered in his past-branded on the familiar form of a determined youth he had once fought alongside.  And suddenly he remembered how he had come to be here at all, the indications of Ky's capture by the Bureau.  "My God.."  Sol's entire body grew cold in that instant.  "What have they done to you.?"

*****

"Wait!" Bridget called suddenly, drawing to an abrupt halt.  "Testament, this way!"

Testament stopped, his bloodied boots skidding a bit on the polished metal as he turned to see what it was that had caught Bridget's attention.  The boy was heading down a different corridor, hopping lightly over the bodies of several prone guards and a few robots-their joints had been severed by a blade.  Testament frowned and quickly followed Bridget to the end of the hall, where a set of double doors was hanging weakly off its hinges.  The pair slipped curiously inside.

The laboratory inside was a substantial mess, just as great if not more so than the commotion Testament and the Ninth had created in the upper level.  Desks and tables were overturned with equipment strewn everywhere-a large, liquid-filled tank set against the wall was covered in spider web cracks and looked close to shattering.  The floor was slick with blood in several places.

Seated in the center of the room was Baiken, leaning against the supports of a thick metal table with her eyes closed and legs stretched out in front of her.  Chipp was nearby, facedown on the floor, and slumped awkwardly across her lap was the unconscious form of a half-naked Anji.  Her face was oddly serene, and her hand, knuckles still white around the handle of her sword, was resting against his chest.

As the pair entered Baiken opened her eye, regarding them wearily.  She blinked.  "I couldn't carry them."

They rushed forward, Bridget crouching down next to Baiken as Testament moved to check on Chipp.  It was then that the Gear noticed the dead woman nearby.  "What happened?"

"Long story," Baiken breathed, allowing Bridget to take her sword from her and slide it into its sheath.  "The woman is Dr. Mariot, in case you were wondering."

"I see."  Though Testament had been hoping that they might capture the doctor alive for questioning, one look at Baiken told him this was probably the best outcome.  He turned Chipp over; he had a serious wound in his shoulder that had been crudely bandaged with strips of fabric from his own shirt, but otherwise he seemed all right.  "How's Anji?"

"I.don't know."  Baiken closed her eye again.  "He's been breathing all right but.I think that bitch started the ritual.  He hasn't woken up."

Testament nodded thoughtfully.  If what the Ninth had told him was true, it was the sacrifice that came first-with Anji's heart undisturbed, it was unlikely that any of the transformation had been completed.  "Can you walk?" he asked seriously.  "I'll carry Anji, if the two of you can take Chipp-he seems to be the lighter of the two."

"Yeah.  Yeah, I think so."

With Bridget's help Baiken eased Anji off of her and pushed to her feet.  She managed to waver only a moment, a hand on Bridget's shoulder, before she was able to stand on her own.  "I'm all right," she assured.  "Just.get all that stuff over there, will you?  I can get Chipp on my own."

Bridget didn't look convinced but he nodded, hurrying over to the dismantled cabinet to retrieve Anji's Zessen and the rest of Baiken's weapons.  Testament, meanwhile, helped Baiken get a good grip on Chipp-with his right arm draped over her shoulders she was able to attach her clawed hand to his arm blade, keeping him close while her good arm wrapped around his waist.  "I'll drag him if I have to," she muttered, and already was starting toward the door.  "Let's just get the hell out of here."

Testament smiled grimly after her as he hefted Anji's weight over his shoulder and followed, Bridget just behind.

*****

Not like this, Sol Badguy couldn't help but think over and over as he blocked Ky's sword against his own.  Never had he imagined it would come to this.

Somewhere deep in his mind he knew the explanation for this was false.  He was not fighting a Gear.  He knew the damned beasts well; Ky simply didn't have the smell of a Gear, and he could already see faint bruises developing on his chest and stomach that a Gear's magic should have easily and instinctually erased.  But whenever their blades met, the force of the impact running through him, his mind blurred a little further.  Ky's attacks were relentless, and his magic seemed to be everywhere-the electricity leapt from robot to robot around them, sparking under Sol's heels as well as along his sword.  It was so overwhelming that even knowing Thunderseal was the cause it felt as if it were coming in from all sides, so well manipulated that it might as well have been spreading from Ky's own body.

"This is insane," Sol hissed, aware suddenly that his hand was shaking around the grip of his weapon.  "What the hell did they do to you!"

Ky circled him, like a beast waiting for its opportunity to strike.  "You're going to have to fight as if you mean to kill me," he warned lowly.  "With all your strength-as if this actually means something to you!"

"Stop it!"  Sol shifted his weight, watching Ky carefully for any tensing of muscle that would indicate the attack.  It wasn't until then that he realized he was already taking this fight with all seriousness.  And still, Ky was overpowering him.  He shook his head.  "I can't-don't you understand that yet?  I don't want to have to kill you!"

Ky snorted, his eyes narrowing dangerously.  "Such arrogance."

"Shut the hell up!"  Ky had always been this stubborn.  Always this determined, this blind to plain reason.  "You're the one that doesn't understand!  You have no fucking clue what I-"

Ky attacked, and they exchanged a round of heated blows.  Sol grimaced as every shift of movement fought to tear his wound a little wider.  And though his voice when he spoke was growling, there was a tremor of desperation behind it.  "Don't make me do this, boy."

"I am not a _child_!"

Thunderseal came rushing at him, propelled by a burst of magic.  The flat of the powerful blade, to Sol's shock, connected heavily to his metal forehead protector like a blow from a sledgehammer.  His head snapped back, and with little more than a startled gasp his body was tossed.  He was flipped completely over, nearly landing on his head as he crumpled onto his stomach.   He.hadn't felt anything like that in a long time; the kind of sustained attack that made his entire body ache from the force, sending his skull into throbbing agony.  "Ky.."

It could not have come to this.

*****

Ky stood back, watching as Sol gasped against the earth with a strange sense of morbid wonder.  His arms were shaking, they themselves affected by the force of his unexpectedly fierce assault.  He had felled the man.  And even knowing that Sol had been holding back all along, that landing a hit against an already wounded and unwilling enemy was nothing his officer's pride should have lauded, his insides were anxiously tight.

It had all come to this.  He could see it clearly, from somewhere far removed from himself; the sum of so many experiences was curled, here in the spaces between his gloved palm and his sword.  Bridget and Johnny, Dizzy and May and Baiken; Rome's twisted alleys and Sardinia's golden coast; the rain that begun it all in Genoa; the blackened outline of sharp mountains that was bringing it to an end.  And Testament.  The Gear who had, in the short span of so few days, come to understand all his shameful motivations.  Who had through his own painful history and continued struggle brought Ky to the truth he should have known all along.

Ky held his sword out before him, tip tilted down, his eyes tracing its familiar length.  It had always served him well.  His fingertips grazed its heated surface as he drew his weapon back, lifting it over his head in a smooth, practiced stance of readiness.  "Take your sword, Sol."

*****

Sol grimaced as he pushed himself onto one knee, forcing himself to remove the hand from his wounded chest.  It was still bleeding and he'd lost most of the feeling in the arm.  Slowly, he raised his eyes to Ky's serious face.  Despite everything the sight of him curled a faint, grim smile in his rough features.  It was almost fitting, that he was kneeling here as if to receive judgment.  But then his gaze fell upon the mark marring Ky's countenance, and with a heavy breath he pushed to his feet.

"This really is what you want."  Sol stabbed Fireseal into the ground, letting it rest there.  The color of his eyes was already beginning to burn as he reached up, with one smooth motion ripping the dented headband from his brow to reveal his own gleaming emblem.  "So be it."

*****

Testament couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness as he led the way through the factory.  It didn't help that the Ninth's blood was still coating him, filling his senses with its unnatural stench.  But his main concern now was on Ky-if the sparking of magic at the back of his mind was any indication, he seemed to be outside by now.  It shouldn't have taken him this long to fight off the robots.  The thought that the Ninth might have hidden from them yet another powerful weapon sped him along.

They were just reaching the security checkpoint they'd dashed through earlier when a fresh surge of magic spread against Testament's senses.  It was so powerful that he abruptly halted-his limbs, as if by instinct, refused to move.  When Bridget questioned him from behind he didn't reply, eyes wide on the destroyed entrance in front of him.  He knew that energy.  With a curse he started forward again on long strides.

As Testament had feared, the group of them emerged from the factory to the sight of Ky and Sol staring each other down across the broken battlefield.  The rise of magic in the air was so great even Baiken and Bridget flinched away.  Ky's Thunderseal was flashing, Sol's head thrown back as his power amassed.  It raised goosebumps up and down Testament's skin.

"Ky.?"  Bridget started forward hesitantly.  "Ky!"

Testament snatched the back of Bridget's outfit and drew him back.  "No," he warned.  "No, we have to get away from these robots."  He kicked at a burned carcass at his feet-Ky's lightning would certainly spread through them, and there were enough around that even his allies would be in danger.  He pushed Bridget in the other direction.  "Go!  We can't stay here."

"But Ky's." Bridget started to protest as Testament took his arm and pulled him along.  "What about Ky?"

"Forget him," Baiken said, dragging Chipp with her as she followed Testament's lead.  "He'll drag us all into this if we're not careful."

Testament's expression hardened as he glanced back, only briefly.  It was just then that Ky's energy began to spill outward-the robots around him spasmed weakly.  He could only pray Ky knew what he was doing.

*****

Ky gasped softly as he felt the sudden surge in his power-the lightning from Thunderseal's tip was spreading among the fallen robots, conducted along their metal surfaces and imitation swords.  The energy almost seemed to bring them to life, golden eyes gleaming against the night.  Each machine and weapon bore in it a generator, and with the heat of Ky's magic many were spurred again to activation, adding to the already growing mass of striking, jagged electricity.  He could feel that energy sliding around him in raw currents, and with concentration found swiftly that he could control it as well.  His hands were shaking.  The amount was startling, and its untamed recklessness reminded him of the night in Genoa, how destructive his uncontrolled force had been.  But this time.this time he knew he could control that power, and as he strengthened his posture the lightning began to form around him, spinning in brilliant flashes.  He had to wonder if this feeling of strength could even compare to that of a Gear's-this sensation of his body being merely a conduit, a mold for so much untamed intensity.

*****

Sol closed his eyes a moment, his breath hissing softly.  Though in truth it had not been so long since he'd been forced to unleash his power like this, it still made his body ache.  His eyes were burning behind his eyelids, flesh heated so that the robots around him, already charged with Ky's lightning, were beginning to melt.

He had come here expecting to find the boy already dead.  He had prepared for that, what he would do to whomever responsible, where he would take the body.  Those were simple things, so unlike this madness before him.  Unlike the hollow sensation behind his ribs.

"Ky."  Sol lifted his gaze to the younger man with a scowl.  "I hope you're fucking satisfied."  With that he snatched Fireseal from the earth and charged.

*****

Ky braced himself.  A deep breath steeled his courage, and then he was running as well, bringing his sword about in a smooth, lateral arch.  Their weapons locked, sending a sharp pain up and down his straining limbs.  The impact of Sol's magic was worse: like a wave it spread over him, as potent and fierce as any Gear's aura he'd ever experienced.  It was dizzying and he nearly feinted back.  But he had not lost himself; he called his own energy to him, and when they combined and mixed both men were thrown back.

"Sol.."  Ky fell back into his stance as the Gear barreled toward him, his voice springing from him like the enraged howl of a beast.  Ky stood his ground.  "I will become stronger," he hissed beneath his breath, drawing his lightning before him to defend from the incoming attack.  "And I'll defeat you."  His voice rose as his fingers tensed along his weapon.  "Soon, Sol!  I will make you recognize me!"

The Gear charged through his barrier of magic-bolts of lightning streaked across his face and chest, burning his tanned skin.  He didn't seem to notice as he careened headlong toward his opponent.  For an instant Ky was granted a view of Sol's face through the sharp illumination and churning heat.  He remembered that feeling:  Sol's fire swirling around him, rising like that night when the war had come to an end, sent a shudder into his chest like nothing else ever could.  His eyes were glowing and split like that a dragon's mad gaze, his growl deep.  And for that instant, Ky felt that he understood.

Thunderseal flashed forward in a desperate attempt at repelling him, but it was too late for that.  He felt the blade penetrate bone and sinew, cleaving again into Sol's collar.  But the Gear kept coming, and Ky only had an instant to realize that his loss was upon him.  The blow came hard; the impact of a fist against the side of his face seemed to paralyze him, carried his feet out from under him.  Bones broke.  And as Sol's magic swarmed over him as well, the world tilting crazily, everything faded swiftly to black.

*****

_"Ky!"_  Testament could only watch, helpless, as the officer's body spun several times fully around before smashing hard into the unyielding earth.  He had no time to consider running to him; the energy of the conflicting weapons was flaring out of control, spreading like a shockwave from their meeting.  Testament lifted his hand in a hastily prepared barrier to protect himself and the others behind him.  But it wouldn't be enough, even with Rael's help-the magic was too much for him, and his seals were already growing dim from the strain.  "Damnit.!"

The patterns of red before him abruptly strengthened, expanding outward to form a wider, deeper barrier.  Testament gasped but didn't let his attention falter as he continued to force his will into the spell.  When he glanced out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the man at his side, aiding him.  The cool, ancient aura around his magic was enough to indicate his identity.  He didn't have time to question; the magic from the battle's aftermath continued to pour over them.  Testament could only grimace and close his eyes against the glare.


	26. Chapter 25

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

There's only one more after this.  Hard to believe that after four months the story is almost over…  ;_;

**Culmination**

Chapter 25

Ky was only aware of a few drifting sensations, each familiar though only fleetingly tangible.  He was in pain, that much was certain.  It was spread so deep that he couldn't remember which part of him was supposed to hurt the most.  But there was something in that agony that was…validating.  Real, so much more so than the sensation of pain usually could be.  His body wasn't ready to accept such rawness right now, and so he remained in the stark darkness, unconcerned with whatever might have been going on elsewhere.

Somewhere, a familiar voice was sounding….

*****

Sol clenched his jaw to suppress any sound of pain as he was thrown back, stumbling a bit over the jagged earth.  He managed to plant his feet and remain upright despite the sudden attack.  "If you touch me again, I'll break _your_ face," he growled dangerously.

"You son of a bitch!" Testament snarled at him, fist tight as he advanced with the intention of another blow.  "What the hell were you doing, fighting like that?  You could have very well killed him, and for what!  You goddamned—"

Sol shoved him hard in the shoulder before he could get any closer.  "You stay the hell away from me, you pathetic fuck.  How the hell was I supposed to know what was going on?  He wanted this!"

"Testament!  Sol!" Bridget tried to plead from the ground.  "Stop it!"

Testament didn't indicate that he'd heard.  Following the aftermath of the fight and dispersing of energy the group had moved away from the piles of scorched and melted robots, to a clear area of the courtyard where they could tend to their wounds.  But Testament couldn't settle until he'd dealt with this, one way or the other.  "You're a selfish, arrogant bastard," growled at the Gear, coming at him again.  "You have no idea what he's been through—what you've done to him!"

"Mind your old goddamned business, puppet," Sol retorted in kind, Fireseal humming at his side.

Testament looked ready to hit him again, but it was then that his mystery assistant chose to step in.  "Now, now, gentlemen," Slayer tried to calm them.  Both were already so ragged from fighting that a hand against each of their chests was enough to push them apart.  "There's no need for that.  The boy's not quite dead yet."

"You miserable—"

"Testament, please!"  Bridget shifted anxiously on his knees.  "Ky needs help."

With a thin scowl Testament at last turned away.  "I'll deal with you later," he muttered over his shoulder.

"Fuck you," Sol replied.  He turned as well, stabbing Fireseal into the ground so when he sat down heavily, he had something to lean against.

Testament didn't grant him another glance as he knelt down next to Ky's head.  The officer was gasping weakly against the ground.  Blood was still flowing from his nose and mouth, making it difficult for him to breathe.  Testament's eyes thinned, and hesitantly he reached forward to wipe some of it away and peel Thunderseal out of his still tense grip.

"Is he going to be all right?" Bridget asked anxiously, making a visible effort to keep his eyes from watering.  He held Ky's hand—burned, again, by his own magic—gently in his own.

"His jaw is broken," Testament reported quietly.  "And probably some of his cheek."  A delicate hand entered his view, and he glanced up in surprise to see a woman kneeling next to him.  She had long, dark hair, a blood red dress, and soft eyes that seemed somehow too deep for the youthfulness in her face.  As he watched she bit down on her finger, drawing blood, and then reached as if intending to offer it to the fallen officer.

"Stop that!"  Testament snatched her wrist and shoved her away.  "He doesn't want your filthy vampire tricks," he muttered as he leaned over Ky protectively.

Slayer frowned at him severely as he moved to help the woman to her feet.  "I should have known better than to expect a Gear with manners," he uttered as he brushed his fingers through her hair.  "We came here to help you, you realize."

"He doesn't want your help."

Slayer raised a dubious eyebrow as he straightened his gray suit coat.  "If you say so."  He touched the woman's arm, indicating for her to assist Baiken, seated a few feet away with Anji and Chipp.  She nodded and obediently did so.  "But then, he must be in pain.  Surely you don't intend to wait for the 'police' to get here…?"

"I can take care of him myself," Testament assured.  Though, that being said, his confidence wasn't as great as he would have liked—he'd never tested his magic in this way before.  Carefully he rolled Ky onto his back, settling the man's head against his knees.  With a deep breath he took Ky's face in his hands and tried to call back everything Dizzy had taught him.  He could feel the jagged seam of bone in Ky's left cheek where he had been struck—it was probably a miracle he hadn't sustained even greater injury.  It…was painful, to see Ky suffering like this, his face drawn tight in a grimace that only made it worse.  He'd hoped never to see Ky like that again.

Testament shook his own discomfort aside.  "Shh," he soothed, closing his eyes as he concentrated on his magic.  He was weary, but he knew he could do this.  He needed only…imagine that it was working, will it to happen.  His palms warmed as he channeled his energy into them.  Gradually a few thin stalks of dull crimson began to slide away from his skin and over Ky's face, tracing the contours of his cheek and jaw, very slowly drawing them back into place.  The officer shivered, and as Testament began to smooth over the seals with his thumbs Ky tilted his head back, his lips parting in a heavy breath.  "Tes…ta…."

Testament's eyes flickered open, startled by the sudden voice.  He sighed in relief—his spell seemed to be working, and it warmed him to imagine that even in such a state, Ky was able to recognize him by the feeling of his magic alone.  Quickly he devoted himself with greater confidence to finishing his work, slowing the flow of blood and repairing torn tissue.

Ky flinched suddenly, his body shuddering as he made a gagging noise at the back of his throat.  Testament rolled him onto his side, and just in time; Ky jerked as he weakly vomited up thick red fluid.

"Ky…?"  Bridget, who had watched the scene with wide and hopeful eyes, went a little pale at the sight of him.  "Is he all right?"

"He'll be fine," Testament assured as he continued to support the man.  "He just swallowed a lot, that's all."

Baiken, too, was watching from nearby, not really paying attention to the woman who was using her scarf to bandage the wound in her chest.  "I didn't know Gears could use magic to heal others," she remarked quietly.

"Dizzy taught it to me," Testament replied, and when it seemed Ky was finished he tugged him back against his lap.  "It's…pretty tiring."  Just as he'd said his strength was already waning, and he sighed quietly.  At least Ky seemed to be doing all right.  Trying to hide his fatigue, he glanced up at Slayer.  "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm sure that can wait for a bit longer," Slayer chuckled lightly, taking it upon himself to readjust the bandages on Chipp's wounded shoulder.  "Everyone should probably get their strength back before hearing me out."

*****

Bridget glanced from Testament to Ky, frowning slightly when he noticed a few marks that had been burned into Ky's forehead.  They looked vaguely familiar, and he started to reach for them.  But Testament was drawn to the movement, and interrupted him by sliding his fingertips over Ky's brow.  The marks gleamed red for a moment with the Gear's magic and then were cleared, leaving no indication that the scars had ever existed.

Bridget looked around their small camp.  Testament was caring for Ky, the strangers for Baiken and Chipp, and Sol…was by himself, leaning against his sword with a slouched posture and eyes closed.  He looked exhausted, and the broad wound carved in his chest made the boy wince.  After a moment's hesitation he turned to Testament.  "Look after him, 'kay?  I'll be back."  Quickly, so Testament wouldn't have time to get mad at him, he stood and trotted over to where the legendary mercenary was resting.

Sol didn't look up until Bridget reached for his thigh, undoing the leather belts.  His eyes, having lost their brilliant shade from the battle, were dull with fatigue.  "What are you doing?"

"Helping you," Bridget piped as he continued to work.  "I'm going to connect these, and use them to hold this—" he tugged at the strip of fabric from Sol's belt "—over that hole in you.  Okay?"

Sol grunted indifferently as he looked away.  "Whatever."

Bridget smiled all the same; Sol didn't have to tell him he appreciated it for him to know.  Though it was a little intimidating being this close to him after the scene he'd witnessed, he couldn't bring himself to fear the man who he'd listened to snoring hours away the night before.  He was even maybe a little awed, and he couldn't keep his gaze from drifting to the emblem on his forehead.  Once the belts and fabric were free he urged Sol to lean forward a little so he could slip the impromptu ties around behind him.

Sol settled once more, glancing briefly back to Ky.  His voice lowered.  "How is he?"

Bridget didn't look up from folding the fabric over in his hands.  "Testament says he's going to be all right," he assured, taking the hint and keeping his voice quiet as well.

He pressed the red square over Sol's chest, and the Gear hissed at the pressure against the wound.  He relaxed again a moment later.  His eyes thinned as he watched the skilled movements of the boy's small hands.  "What…happened to him?" he asked suddenly, though his tone was even softer than before.  "You've known all along."

Bridget gulped.  "It's a long story," he said lightly.  "But…yeah.  The Bureau never got him—we did.  He's been hiding with us, the pirates, since Genoa."

Sol sighed heavily.  "Bastard.  Had me trekking across the damn country for nothing."

Bridget glanced up at his face and smiled.  "Aren't you glad, though?" he asked as he tightened the belts.  It was a crude bandage, but at least it would keep the wound covered.  "He didn't turn up dead, right?"

"Yeah…I guess so."  Sol grunted.  "Just so you know, I wouldn't have killed him.  And it's not my fault he's a stubborn ass bastard.  It's his fault for trying to screw with me."

"Okay."

"Because he was, you know.  Trying to trick me."

"Okay."

Both were quiet a moment, and when Bridget was satisfied with his work he at last sat back.  He watched Sol's expression a moment; though his face was weary with exhaustion his eyes were attentive and sharp as he watched Testament caring for the young officer.  "It was a good match," Sol said suddenly, his gaze at last dropping away.  "You tell him that for me."

Bridget straightened, realizing that he had just been granted a task of considerable importance.  "Okay," he assured, and with a smile he leaned in, giving Sol a peck on the cheek.  "You're not such a bad guy, you know."

Sol groaned and rolled his eyes, shoving Bridget back.  "Help me up," he grunted.  "I've got a few questions for that old windbag."

*****

Slayer, having finished fixing Chipp's bandage, knelt next beside the yet unconscious Anji.  Calmly he wiped the blood from the man's chest and forehead, smearing the patterns that had been drawn there.  "It was a close call, wasn't it?" he remarked lightly.  

Baiken watched him carefully, ignoring the water flask the woman at her side was offering her.  "Can you help him?"

"We'll see, won't we?"  Slayer rested his open palm against Anji's forehead, his eyes narrowing slightly in concentration.  There was a thick, tense silence, and then all at once Anji's lips parted in a loud gasp that made Baiken jump.  As Slayer leaned back the Japanese man sputtered weakly and, slowly, opened his eyes.  "Baiken…?"

"Anji?"  Baiken crawled forward as Slayer moved back, leaning over him to get a better look at his face.  "Are you…?"

Anji squinted, gaining his sight back to him, and when he was finally able to make out the woman's face he smiled.  "Hey."  With a quiet groan he sat up unaided.  "What happened?"

Baiken sighed heavily as she leaned into him, wrapping her arm tightly around his neck in a firm, thankful embrace.  "You damn bastard.  Trying to get me worked up."  For a moment she seemed to wilt, just slightly, against his chest.  "Are you all right?"

"I guess so."  Blushing in embarrassment Anji returned the affection with a hand against her back.  "Where are we?"  He glanced around in surprise at all the different people surrounding them.  His gaze lingered with uncertainty on Testament a moment, but when he realized that the Gear seemed to be helping Ky, he calmed.  "Was this some kind of rescue mission?"

Realizing there were others watching, Baiken quickly pulled back and straightened her top.  "Yeah, you could say that."  Ignoring her own slight blush she glanced to Testament.  "It's over, right?  You killed him?"

Testament, who had been devoting his attention solely to Ky, glanced up at last.  "Yes," he replied calmly.  "The Ninth is dead."

"Ah, is he?"  Slayer removed a pipe from the inside of his suit coat as he seated himself next to his female companion.  "That's good news—it saves me some trouble."

Baiken shot him a glare.  "You knew him?"

"My dear," Slayer replied around a smirk, "as a respectable vampire, I make it my business to know all self-proclaimed immortals."

If any of them were surprised by the declaration of his vampiric nature, only Anji showed it in his face.  Baiken only frowned, and looked ready to question, but Sol beat her to it.  "I think it's time," he said firmly as he and Bridget returned to the group, "for you to explain yourself, Nightwalker."

Slayer chuckled with dry humor; a snap of his fingers lit his pipe for him.  "Such courtesy, after I saved several lives here tonight."

"Save it."  Sol lowered himself with a smothered groan, planting Fireseal again to lean against.  He shooed Bridget away; the boy quickly returned to Ky's side.  "And out with it already.  You knew all along that Ky wasn't 'missing', didn't you?"

"Actually, I assumed the Bureau had taken him," Slayer confessed with a shrug.  "Arthur may never have been sensible, but I've never doubted his skill.  It wasn't hard to believe he'd managed to capture Ky.  Especially after I tipped him off."

Testament straightened, his eyes flashing with a threat.  "You…what?"

"I'm afraid I'm something of a rat," Slayer chuckled, clearly enjoying the surprise and annoyance they were all fixing him with.  "I knew Arthur had to be behind the robots—I happen to be familiar with most forbidden magics and rituals, and he especially kept my interest for a time.  This kind of thing is very much his style.  But I didn't know where to find the lad."  He puffed lightly on his pipe.  "It wasn't a bad plan, really.  Leaking the information that Ky would be entering Italy—recruiting Sol Badguy to track down his abductors.  I had Sol do the legwork for me, leaving me free to continue my own work."

Sol snorted irritably.  "Fucker."

"So…you didn't plan for any of us, then?" Bridget asked curiously, curling his knees up to his chest.  "Testament, the pirates, Chipp…?"

"I'd heard rumors that Chipp Zanuff went missing," Slayer replied.  "But no, I had no idea Gears and pirates were getting involved."  He smiled thinly at the boy.  "A surprising and fortunate turn of events, wouldn't you say?"

Bridget grinned brightly, but Testament was quick to curb that enthusiasm.  "What other work?" he questioned sharply.  "And why are you here now?"

"I followed Sol here to see how everything went.  And you all did very well, let me assure you.  It was quite a show."  He glanced to Ky, and his eyes seemed to gleam a little.  "He's far more powerful than I thought."

Testament drew a hand over Ky's chest protectively.  "And your other business?" he prompted again.

Slayer chuckled.  "Ah, yes.  I have it right here with me."  He held out his hand, and the woman at his side obediently reached into a satchel at her shoulder, tugging free a large, thick envelope.  "I was preparing this," the vampire declared, giving it a shake.  "You can see for yourself."

Anji accepted it from him, and everyone looked inward as he slipped the papers out of their protective covering.  Baiken leaned in to see as he skimmed them.  "These are…some kind of reports?" Anji hazarded, flipping through the pages.  "They're about the robots."

"That's right," Slayer confirmed, looking quite proud of himself.  "Drawn from all over the world, and none more vocal than those of the indomitable Miss Kuradoberi herself.  It seems these 'robotic Kys' have been causing problems in more than just Rome, and the documentation of them is all there.  There's also reports from President Gabriel's search for the missing Ky Kiske."

"You're releasing them to the press?" Baiken asked incredulously.

Sol rolled his eyes.  "You'll start riots."

"Precisely."  Slayer's confident expression only deepened as Anji shared the different papers with Baiken and Bridget.  "What do you think will happen when the world's citizens hear of a secret organization producing robots to conspire against the Global Police?  Our Sir Kiske here is a valuable and well-liked figure.  I can scarcely imagine the uproar it will cause, when everyone learns that someone was plotting to do our beloved Holy Knight harm."  He blew a ring of smoke.  "Even if there are other factories, the Bureau's hands will be tied.  If it was their intention to employ these robots for common use, there's no way they can precede without the public's support.  It would, indeed, become riotous."

"This is the Bureau you're talking about," Sol warned.  "If you try to spread those reports they'll only be silenced, along with any news of what happened here."

Slayer only grinned.  "That's why I already submitted them—hundreds of them, to reliable sources, while you were busy hunting down the culprit for me.  By this time tomorrow, all the globe will be ravaged with a fresh round of anti-robot sentiment."  He gestured to the unconscious officer.  "And once Zepp's investigation provides the populace with an intact Ky Kiske, they will be saved from blame.  How about that?"

"They…could always use the robots anyway," Anji murmured thoughtfully, frowning as he slipped the papers back into the envelope.  "They're powerful enough.  Even if people protest, they could still easily take over.  It could cost so many lives…."

"Then it's a good thing that as a vampire I wouldn't be a part of that, isn't it?"  Slayer lifted an eyebrow carelessly.  "I'm willing to take the risk.  Better that than your entire human race huddle in the dark like frightened sheep while us monsters handle everything.  Isn't it about time the world started to learn who's really in control?"

Sol snorted and looked away.  "You're a fool if you think it'll change anything."

"Maybe.  But in the meantime, it's something of a solution, now isn't it?"  Slayer leaned back, looking smug.  "Which is more than what you would have had otherwise.  Potemkin is already on his way here, with a team to 'discover and rescue' the missing officer.  Sir Kiske will return to the Global Police.  Then he can tell the whole world how he was captured and imprisoned by dastardly robots, whip the masses into a frenzy, and if another 'Robo Ky' shows its face again it'll have the whole world against it."

Baiken and Anji exchanged glances.  "It doesn't have much to do with us," the former muttered.  "We're going back to the Colony—maybe even take Chipp with us until this thing blows over.  I don't want anything to do with it anymore."

"Understandable.  Sharon and I came by carriage—there's a tunnel leading out of the mountains out the back of the factory.  If you'd rather not get found out by Potemkin, you're welcome to travel with us."

"That's fine."

Slayer looked to Sol.  "And you?"

"It doesn't matter to me," Sol muttered, shifting slightly.  "But I don't need any publicity.  I'll be leaving out the back, but don't wait for me."

"Very well.  And Testament?"

Testament glanced up vaguely.  He looked from Slayer, to Baiken, to Bridget, and only briefly to Sol before returning his attention to the man resting against his knees.  "I'm going to stay a while longer."

"You shouldn't be here for when Potemkin shows up," Anji warned quietly.  "You're the most wanted out of any of us here, you know."  He scratched his head.  "Not that I even know what you're doing here."

Testament sighed quietly.  "Yes, I know.  But I want to stay.  Just…to make sure everything will be all right, until Potemkin arrives."

"I'll stay, too," Bridget offered, edging a little closer.  "It won't matter if Potemkin finds me here, so I can look after Ky, too."

"Holy shit!"

Everyone turned, startled by the sudden exclamation.  Anji's face lit in a broad grin.  "Chipp!"

On the edge of the group, Chipp pushed himself into a sitting position, shaking his head and gripping his wounded shoulder.  "Fucking Christ, that hurts!" he complained loudly as he poked at the wound, succeeding in making him wince even more.  Blinking, he turned his gaze on the several pairs of eyes watching him.  "Huh?  The hell…?"

Baiken groaned in annoyance and pushed to her feet.  "He doesn't remember."

"Huh?  Remember what?"  Chipp looked to each in confusion, his face contorting into an increasingly baffled expression when he took in the sight of Sol Badguy, Testament, and Ky Kiske all sitting peacefully together.  He scratched the back of his neck.  "Um…what's going on?  Damnit, my head hurts."

Chuckling, Anji stood as well, tightening the sheet around his waist before offering his hand to Chipp.  "It's a long story," he answered.  "But don't worry, Baiken already paid you back.  Come on—we'll tell you everything on the way out of here."

"Paid me back?" Chipp echoed as he allowed himself to be tugged to his feet.  He blinked, turning on the woman suddenly.  "Did you do this to me?  Oh, you are so gonna—"

"Shut up," Baiken interrupted, giving him a shove.  "We're leaving.  That all right with you, old man?"

Slayer chuckled at their antics.  "Yes, I believe we're finished here."  He stood as well, helping Sharon delicately to her feet.  "And thank you, Sol, for your help in this matter."

Sol calmly flicked him off.  "Go to Hell, vampire."

"Vampire?" Chipp echoed, backing away from the man as he passed.  "Ew—what's going on?  Will somebody please—"

Anji hooked an arm around his as he started to lead them after Slayer and Sharon.  "Don't worry, Chipp," he assured, his manner light in relief.  "We'll fill you in on everything you missed."

"Well I should hope so…."

As they passed Baiken hesitated a moment, then crouched down next to Bridget, watching as Ky continued to slumber on.  "You three gonna be all right out here?"

"Sure!" Bridget chirped.  "Don't worry, Miss Baiken, we'll take good care of him."

She nodded absently.  "Yeah.  Listen, just…."  She frowned awkwardly down at the ground.  "Thanks.  For…well, helping me get them back."

They nodded, Bridget with a grin.  "I'll tell Ky, too," he added.

"Yeah."  Shaking herself of her sentimentality once more Baiken stood, trotting off after the pair.  "You both owe me!" she called, giving Chipp a slap on the back that made him yelp.  "A drink—a good one."

"I don't owe you nothing, Cyclops."

"C'mon, Chipp, it's just your shoulder…."

Testament was only half listening to their passing banter as the group moved away.  He was still watching Ky intently, trying to wipe some of the blood away from his face, to situate him as comfortable as possible.  Despite everything, with the moonlight hitting his skin he looked just as he had that night at the House, slumbering peacefully among the children.  The memory raised a dull pang in his chest.  Soon, the police would be here—ready to take Ky back with them.  He had known it would come to this, and so was surprised by how ill prepared he suddenly felt for the whole thing.  Lost in thought, it wasn't until Sol grunted disdainfully a few feet away that he lifted his head.  "What?"

"Nothing," Sol muttered, not looking at him.  "Just thinking that I might have gone crazy."

Testament's eyes thinned.  "Are you talking about me?"

"Well, look at you."

Testament frowned, fighting the urge to justify himself to the man.  He lowered his gaze once more.  "You wouldn't understand," he said quietly, "what we've been through."

"Good.  I don't care, anyway."

Sol pushed to his feet just as Bridget came trotting back up to them—Testament hadn't even noticed he'd left.  He was carrying in his arms a pile of torn blue and white fabric.  "Are you leaving, Sol?"

"No point in sticking around, is there?"  Sol rotated his shoulders with a thin groan and yanked Fireseal from the earth.  "Just watch yourself, kid.  Being a bounty hunter is serious business, you know."

"I know."  Bridget smiled as he dropped again to Ky's side.  "Take care."

Sol glanced down at the trio once more, his eyes thinning as they moved over Ky's prone figure.  He was still a moment, and then the dust was swayed as he started in the direction the others had gone.  Testament didn't watch him leave, but he listened to the fall of his footsteps, until he was certain that Sol was far enough away.  Something about those few minutes of silence wore at him a little, reminding him that no matter what he and Ky had faced together, there was something still beyond his comprehension between those two.  Something none of Ky's emotional outbursts would ever tell him.

"What's that for?" Testament asked curiously as Bridget began stretching out the things he'd gathered.

"I thought we should dress him up in his uniform," Bridget suggested, already reaching to begin removing Ky's vest.  By now it was in such a state that it all but fell from his shoulders.  "It'll be hard explaining this outfit to Potemkin."

Testament nodded thoughtfully, and together the pair managed to get Ky into most of the outfit without disturbing him.  That finished both sat back, watching over their charge.  When Bridget finally spoke, his voice was quiet.  "What…do you think you'll do now?"

"I'm not sure," Testament admitted, his eyes downcast.  "When Potemkin gets here I'll leave.  But after that…."  His shoulders sagged.  "I don't know."

Testament drew the backs of his fingers across Ky's cheek.  "What about you, Ky?" he asked vaguely.  "What happens now?  Where…do we go from here?"  But Ky only shifted slightly in his sleep, his head falling to the side.

Bridget watched him silently, the depth behind the Gear's eyes as he gazed down at the slumbering officer.  He edged closer, until he was leaning against Testament's shoulder.  "This is just like before," he said softly, smiling as his hand wandered over to cover Testament's.  "On the beach."

Testament's lips curled in his own tiny smile as he continued to move his hand faintly over Ky's face.  "Yes," he whispered, shifting to allow Bridget closer.  "Yes, it is."

They settled together, unspeaking in the dark as they waited for Potemkin and his men to arrive.


	27. Epilogue

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.  

**Culmination**

Epilogue

The last sensations Ky Kiske remembered through the thick layers of unconsciousness were the brush of a Gear's soft fingertips against his cheek, followed by a touch of warm breath, the whisper of lips over his mouth.  They were faint echoes of a body not his own.  His lips parted, as if in an attempt to respond, but his throat felt tight and his breath thin.  And then that familiar warmth was gone.

Ky's eyes fluttered slowly open.  It was dark, and he could hear the patter of light rainfall stretching towards him from behind closed glass.  For a moment his senses tossed him back, and he was certain that when his sight cleared he would find himself among cold stone, the smell of wet leather, and flashing crimson eyes—things he had once forgotten.  But when he moved his hand it was drawn across clean, dry fabric, and his body was clothed in soft warmth.  His gaze focused on a tall white ceiling.  And then, the face of a young boy leaning over him.  "Bridget…?"

"Ky?"  As Bridget's features drew into focus Ky could clearly see his warm smile.  "You're awake."

Ky reached up to rub at his eyes, only dimly surprised to find that his hands had again been bandaged.  He hadn't been very kind to them lately.  "Where am I?" he asked, stretching his body experimentally.  There was a tightness in his ribs and a dull ache in his skull, but otherwise he seemed to be all right.

"The Healing Ward in Benevento," Bridget answered, tugging his chair a little closer to Ky's bed.  "You've been out for almost two days—you must be getting used to this."

Ky chuckled quietly as he let his hand fall back to his stomach.  By now he could make out his surroundings in full: the white room, Bridget seated beside him in new attire, and the window off to his right that shielded them from the rain.  "What happened?" he asked hesitantly.  "Is everyone…?"

"Everyone's fine," Bridget quickly assured.  He was dressed in denim jeans and a light blue, long-sleeved and high-necked sweater. "Anji and Chipp both woke up and were fine when they left—they're going with Baiken to the Colony, I think."  His voice lowered slightly.  "The Ninth is dead, and so is the doctor that worked with him.  Potemkin said they're not sure yet what they're going to do with Dr. Galleon, though.  He's in jail right now."

Ky sighed.  "I see."  The Ninth was dead.  Which meant that Testament must have finished it; the thought of which rose thick emotion in his throat.  "What about…."  He faltered, lips pursing in a thin frown.  He wasn't even sure how to begin asking what had happened—he remembered nothing after his last exchange with Sol, and looking back on it now he should have been ashamed of his rash, selfish behavior.  "Bridget, I…."

Bridget's smile deepened as he slipped his hand into Ky's.  "It's all right—no one's mad at you.  If that's what you wanted to ask."  He tilted his head to the side.  "Everything worked out, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so."  Ky stretched again, settling himself more comfortably against the mattress.  "I know…it must not make much sense to you," he murmured.  "And I know I was foolish.  I could have gotten one or both of us killed…and if you'd needed me…."  He closed his eyes as his lips curved in a bitter smile.  "But I'm glad.  I was able to feel a power I never had before.  It was amazing."

"Do you think you'll go after him again, when you're better?" Bridget asked softly.

Ky chuckled dryly.  "For now, I'm satisfied."  He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, watching it with distant eyes.  "But I will face him again someday.  As long as Sol stays ahead of me, I'll have something more to fight towards.  As long as I chase him, I'll become stronger."

Bridget grinned, giving his hand a light squeeze.  "He wanted me to tell you that it was a good match."

The officer felt a brief swell of pride at those words.  "Did he?"

"Yeah.  But…you won't go after him for a while, right?" Bridget persisted.  "He beat you pretty badly."

Ky chuckled again.  "No, not for a while."  Sol had complimented him…how strange.  He wasn't sure how to accept that.  He reached up with his free hand, stroking the length of his jaw; he clearly remembered the force of the hit, the sensation of bones breaking.  The heat that had healed him.  "Bridget," he asked thoughtfully, "was it the Ward Mages who healed me?"

"Nope.  Well, maybe a little."  Bridget's eyes sparkled secretively.  "Testament put your face back together just after we found you.  He did a good job, right?"

"Testament…."  Ky traced his fingertips along the side of his face, recalling the different paths of magic that had spread through him, knitting bone and flesh back together.  He hadn't known that Testament was capable of such power.  When he realized how he must have learned, he felt his chest tighten.  "Dizzy…."

"Hm?"

Ky shook his head lightly.  "Nothing," he assured.  He sighed quietly, a worn, pleased smile drawing his lips.  He felt as if he were being warmed by too deep emotions; he wanted to see him.  "Where is he?"

Bridget seemed to understand, as his voice tipped quietly, eyes softening.  "Waiting for me.  They let me in because they think I'm the one that helped rescue you from the Ninth, but Testament didn't want to risk letting people see him.  He's just outside."

"Is he?"  Ky turned his head toward the window, and was only a little surprised to see the blurred figure of Rael perched on the fire escape rail just outside.  She was trying to hide from the rain beneath her wing.  "She's been watching over me, hasn't she?" he murmured.

"Yeah.  And doing a good job."  Bridget paused for a moment, and then drew Ky's attention back with a light tug on his hand.  "Ky, I'm…going to go with Testament," he said at once.  "We don't know where we're going yet, but we're going to be together.  So you don't have to worry about us, okay?"

Ky stared at him curiously, though he couldn't help feeling suddenly relieved.  "What about the Jellyfish?"

"They'll manage without me."  Bridget winked, but then grew more serious.  "Besides, I'm trying to be more manly, right?  Johnny's great, but I don't know if all those girls are gonna help me much.  Testament promised to help train me.  And…."  He ducked his head a little.  "I don't want him to be alone.  He'd be lonely."

"Yes…."  Pleased more than he could say, Ky nodded, giving Bridget's hand a squeeze.  "Thank you, Bridget, for everything you've done for me.  Will…you thank Testament for me, as well?  I wouldn't want him to get in trouble, just for trying to come see me."  Though it made his throat ache slightly with the realization that the pair would be leaving him, he tried not to let that disappointment show in his face.

"I will."  Bridget hesitated, then leaned forward suddenly, pressing to Ky's lips a short, but tender kiss.  Ky took in a surprised breath but by then Bridget had already pulled back, blushing.  "From Testament," he explained sheepishly.  "So you'll get better soon."

Ky's expression softened.  "Did he tell you to do that?"

"Well, no, but…I think he was afraid you wouldn't remember the other one he gave you."

He smiled.  "I remember."

"Oh."  Bridget pushed out of his chair, his face tipped down shyly.  "Well, then, it was from me, too.  So get better, okay?"  Still blushing he gave Ky's hand one last squeeze before heading for the door.  "Don't you worry about us one bit!  I'll take good care of Testament for you."

Just as he reached to open the door Ky's fingers curled, and he called his name.  When Bridget looked back he offered him a gentle grin.  "You look very handsome."

Bridget's cheeks brightened.  "Go to sleep," he retorted around an embarrassed grin, and he turned, unable to hold back a happy giggle as he slipped out of the room.  The sound of his skipping on light feet could be heard echoing down the hall as he departed.

Ky sighed, sinking happily back into his pillow.  For a long minute he was silent, just listening to the rain, letting it help him remember the events of the past week that now seemed so far away.  When he opened his eyes, he found himself watching a pair of small black ones; the crow that was Rael had somehow entered his room, and was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed, watching him.  Ky smiled.  "Rael."  He reached up to draw his fingers lightly over her smooth feathers.  "Thank you for watching over me.  Will you do me one more favor?"

When the bird puffed up her feathers, Ky took that to mean a yes.  "Tell Testament," he said, "that when I get out of here, I expect him to come visit me in Paris."

Rael regarded him silently a moment, unblinking, until suddenly taking to the air.  Ky let his hand fall as she slipped like a shadow through the window, his eyes falling shut once more in search of much needed rest, a smile in his lips.

* * *

Testament watched the hospital from across the street—safe from the rain, this time, beneath a large dark umbrella.  The long gray cloak purchased in the city days before served as a coat to keep the evening chill away from him.  He had stood there a while now, drawing little attention from anyone as he waited.  Which was fine with him; he wanted nothing to disturb his vigil of the hospital window.

A black shape swooped down toward him, and he lifted his umbrella slightly so that Rael could descend to perch easily on his cloaked shoulder.  She spoke to him as she preened her damp feathers; Testament's eyes opened a little wider as he took in the news of Ky's awakening.  "He said that, did he?" he asked quietly, and his features were graced with a smile of his own as he turned back towards the building where Bridget was just emerging from the main entrance.  "In that case…maybe I will."

Bridget trotted up to him, anxious to get under the umbrella himself.  As he began to relate his conversation with Ky the pair started down the street, disappearing into the crowds of people already moving about in the rain.

~End

Thanks, everyone, for reading my fic!  And big hug-thanks for everyone that reviewed, especially you guys that have been with me since the beginning (^_~).  I hope you liked my fic.  I'm not sure yet if I'm going to write a sequel, but if you're interested in or bored enough to read some of my ramblings on Culmination or it's possible continuation, I've put up some stuff at my livejournal.  I don't know if I'm allowed to put links in a story on FF.net, but…here it to drop in with questions, comments, suggestions, whatever you like!  (^o^)  I'd love to hear from ya.


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